Stinging Nettles
by A Wordsmith
Summary: Petunia had always hated gardening, despite her love for flowers. And so Harry Potter, from a very young age, was sent out to the gardens to work. But when his hands brush against a stinging nettle, everything changes. Now a Harry with a bit of a different goal in mind is sent to Hogwarts, armed with a bit more knowledge.
1. Stinging Nettle

Petunia Dursley _nee-_ Evans was a perfectly average woman. She had a perfectly healthy son, a perfect man with a perfectly stable job, and a perfect house on a perfect street. _She_ was perfect.

Everything about her was perfect. She had a long neck, all the fashion now. Her waist was thin and her arms were thinner, perfect for this age. She didn't work, giving her plenty of time at home to spoil her only child - also very perfect - until he was perfect too.

But dirt on her knees and blisters on her hands were _not_ perfect, and so it was perfectly acceptable that Petunia Dursley did no such thing as gardening.

But oh, how her gardens were the talk of the town. Immaculate rows of cat-grass and blooming bushes of roses all trimmed to perfection. Red and white hyacinths sprouted along every square inch, never quite bumping into each other yet the perfect distance apart. If a single blade of grass were to make it past her garden walls it would last nary a day before it was plucked out from the dirt.

Petunia lavished in the attention, making sure to always have her hands spread out so her neighbors could see the untainted and silken smooth skin there. She never had more than a speck of dirt under her fingernails that were always filed to perfection.

Perfection?

If she could, Petunia would swear that was her middle name.

But her gardens were not labored over by either her nor her husband, and she wouldn't subject her boy Dudley to bending over dirt and plants.

No, Petunia had another secret - a perfect one.

And her little secret was currently working out in the gardens, keeping them perfect.

Harry Potter swiped a hand over his brow, sweat glistening on the edges. His hands were scratchy with the thin covering of dirt, and he longed to wipe them away. But even he, in his nine-year-old mindset, knew he had to finish gardening before he could wash up. The hose was lying right at his side, but that was for rose bushes when he was done - they weren't getting enough water from the sprinklers, and the rage Aunt Petunia had flown into when she discovered a browning leaf was deeply imprinted on his mind. She had told him that if she were to find another non-green leaf, he would be the one paying for it. So he was going to drown those bushes so they would be just as green as they could be.

The sun beat powerfully down on him, hitting him like an actual wave. He didn't mind gardening that much; after four years of doing it, he found he almost enjoyed it. But when the sun was high and blazing, he wished he could do it at any different time. He enviously watched the few clouds skirting away. They had covered the sun for a few minutes before leaving. The shade had been nice, brief as it was. With his shaggy black hair, the sun was even more attracted to him, if what his Science teacher had said was correct.

Using calculated motions, Harry stood up, careful not to disturb the hyacinth he had been weeding. A strangler root had wrapped around its stem and it had been difficult to fully unwrap it. He walked over to the next bunch of cat-grass. It was long and thin, with blue-green stems that flowed in the wind. He kneeled, the woodchips biting into his unprotected legs. He had forgone protection for shorts, and couldn't have been happier that he did.

Harry dipped his hands into the stems, shifting them apart to search for weeds at their roots. He closed his eyes for a second, their tired weights slipping shut.

So it was quite the surprise when something bit him.

He yelped, falling backward. His hand flew to his face, burning emerald eyes flicking over every surface. Through his thin wired glasses, he saw a tiny needle poking out of his skin, embedded right on his fingertip.

Using the barest tip of his fingernails, he grabbed onto the needle and pulled it out of his skin. He was rewarding when the twanging in his finger mostly went away, although it stung slightly. He put the needle out on his palm and looked at it.

It was tiny and clear colored. He wouldn't have noticed it if it didn't make his finger ache.

Harry shot his attention back to the cat-grass, eyeing the stems with distrust. He didn't want to search back through it, but he knew that Aunt Petunia would kill him and use his body as fertilizer if he didn't find the little monster - he had heard the threat enough to know.

Carefully, oh so carefully, Harry dipped his fingers into the front of the cat-grass and pulled it apart.

To his surprise, he came face-to-face with neither a rodent or a snake or even a creature at it.

It was a plant.

Maybe a foot tall, it had thick dark green leaves with a rough patterning. It had a skinny stem with several tiny buds along the top, and one was already beginning to sprout into a teensy yellow bloom.

Harry recognized this plant. Aunt Petunia had told him that if he ever found one like he was to burn it in the back to avoid it spreading. It was a stinging nettle. He moved closer, his nose only inches away from a leaf. Looking closer, he saw the same tiny needles he found in his finger all over its stem.

He cocked his head to one side, the cat-grass brushing against his black hair. Carefully he reached out a finger to tap along the stem, only to hiss in pain and shoot his hand backward. It burned wildly, focused on a tiny pinprick on his finger. It was like when he had been stung by a bee; it stung and stung but only in one spot.

He leaned back, rocking backward until he was sitting cross-legged. Bringing his finger back up to his eye level, he looked at the tiny needle in his skin. This one was slightly crooked, he noticed. Using his fingernails, he carefully pried the needle from his finger. He rolled it between his fingers, watching the very tip of it flash in the light.

Harry Potter wouldn't realize it for several years later, but that was the moment was hooked.

He, as if acting on some instinct, carefully pushed the cat-grass back over the nettle. The seat of blue-green stems swallowed it up, only a hint of the dark green leaves poking over the top. Harry left the stinging nettle in the garden, perhaps the first time he directly disobeyed his Aunt Petunia.

He stood up, brushing dirt off of his knees. It stuck to his fingers no matter how much it flicked them through the air, trying to knock them loose. He moved a half a foot to the left and knelt again, woodchips pressing into his legs.

He focused on the cat-grass in front of him, carefully digging his fingers through it so check around the roots for any other weeds or blades of grass. There was nothing but a small clover, which was quickly pulled out and tossed behind him, where it would be swept up and thrown in the trash later.

But as much as he concentrated, his mind always went back to the stinging nettle.

The sun was well out of its high spot in the sky when a small boy walked around the back of Privet Drive, Number 4.

Harry, having finished gardening, was walking over to the park that was only a block or two behind his house. It was wonderfully close, and Harry had taken many days on the swingset, gently rocking back and forth while thinking. He couldn't get very high, as he was just about the size of a twig, but it was soothing just swaying softly.

The grass crunched under his feet, still partially frozen from the winter that had only just given way to spring. He guessed he was lucky Aunt Petunia didn't send him out to garden earlier in the spring, with the frosts that came every night and the biting winds that brought snow and hail. But now the sun was back with a fury, and the back of his neck felt like he could probably fry an egg on it, despite him having finished his gardening almost an hour earlier. It had been an interesting session, at least.

The stinging nettle. Aunt Petunia had told him to never let one live, but he had not only kept it alive, he had left it _in_ her garden. Harry felt like berating himself for being so stupid, but the plant had gotten a hold on him. The call of the poisonous sting he felt, it was something he had never experienced before in his life. He could feel a phantom sting on his finger when he thought about it, which was _definitely_ not normal or perfect.

Maybe stinging nettles had something that made him think strangely. Harry resolved that on Monday he would go to the school library and find a book on it. He already spent a good portion of his time there, as it was the perfect hiding spot from Dudley and his gang. He doubted that Dudley had ever read a book past ' _Tommy and His Red Wagon_ '. He grinned widely at the thought.

A branch snapped below his feet and he jumped, startled. His gaze snapped in front of him and he found himself nearly walking past the pack, heading towards the woods beyond. A scarlet blush bright enough to stop a train bloomed on his cheeks, even though there was no one to see him.

Harry skipped backward until he was at the swingset. The slightly rusted surface was still shiny, and the seats were made of the same black plastic. He grinned at it, trotting over to the second swing, his favorite.

He clambered on, sitting on the seat. His feet grazed the woodchips below and he pushed as hard as he could, sending him moving backward. Soon he had a decent pace going, rocking neatly back and forth.

Harry lounged, leaning back against one chain. It creaked in protest but Harry didn't move, closing his eyes and letting the familiar rocking motion lull him into relaxation. He had about three hours until it was dinner; he had checked the clock before coming out here.

The chain groaned slightly as he leaned deeper onto his backrest, but Harry ignored it. This was his little world, where he could be King as long as he closed his eyes and imagined it. A world all for himself.

The snap of woodchips was the only warning he got.

A punch hit him strongly in the back. His eyes snapped open but he was already falling, toppling forward. Wood chips pressed into his glasses while his body tried to recover.

Harry pushed up, his fingers biting into the sharp chunks of wood. He had a pretty good idea of who did that. He turned around, a slight cut on his cheek from a piece of bark. It stung slightly but faded after only a second.

Dudley Dursley was the bane of Harry Potter's existence. At a mere nine years of age, he was more obese than most adults, proportionately. He had a love for all things sweet and a dislike for things that began with 'Harry' and ended with 'Potter'.

He was a round beachball with a flop of blond hair on the top of his head and no visible neck. His blue eyes were already small for his face but were narrowed even further when he looked at the boy on the ground in front of him.

Harry licked his lips before fully turning around to face Dudley and his gang, emerald eyes already hardened and determined. This was his life; he sure knew how to deal with it.

There was Dudley, the great fat loaf himself. A scrawny boy named Pierre who Harry was pretty sure cheated on every test. The muscle of the team was Richie, with powdery blond hair that looked like it had been bleached.

"Hello, freak." Dudley shot at Harry, but the boy barely blinked. Using the same nickname over the course of many years had made its toll on him rather little. Harry could have almost wished he was a bit more creative, but he didn't dare say a word.

"What're you doing on the ground?" Richie grunted out, his brown eyes glinting. His fingers were clenching and unclenching, and Harry's eyes flicked in between those and his face constantly. The group of boys guffawed, but there was still the squeak of their prepubescent voices.

Harry shifted around until he was sitting on the ground, hands braced behind him. He knew that if he ran harder enough in any random direction he could get away safe and sound. His bright eyes flicked in between all of the boys, trying to find the best way out.

But Harry Potter was merely nine years old, and he was not known for the best strategies in the world.

The rustling of leaves was only drowned out by the splintering and scattering woodchips as Harry tried to stand up but fell flat on his face.

His shoe had caught under his own feet as he tried to both spin and stand up at the same time, plopping him right back down.

Dudley, Pierre, and Richie only stared in a rather stunned silence, eyes wide. Then Pierre broke out in loud, rambunctious laughter, one that echoed around the playground. Dudley and Ritchie joined in a second later.

Harry groaned into ground. His shoulder ached something awful after having smacked it onto the ground, and his nose pounded. The sound of the gang's laughter echoed above him, loud and humiliating. He shifted, trying to force his weight underneath his body so he could stand up.

A foot landed squarely on his back, shoving him back to the ground. Harry let out an 'oof', limbs splayed out on either side of him. Hs struggled upward slightly, but the weight increased until he was just laying there, trying not to move.

"Richie." Dudley shuffled slightly, feet tapping against the ground. "What are you doing?"

"I bet I could break a bone," Richie taunted, shifting his weight slightly. He raised one large, meaty hand as if he would try to punch Harry, but had realized he was too low. "Do ya think I could?"

Dudley's brow gleamed suddenly, like a layer of sweat had appeared on it. He jittered back and forth, hands clenching and unclenching. "I don't think you should do that. What if we get caught?" Pierre was dancing backward, too, his brown eyes flashing from Harry to Richie.

"Don't you dare," Harry said as strongly as he could muster, his voice snapping off at the end. He turned his head as far as he could to stare up at Richie, who wasn't doing anything to decrease the weight on his back. "Don't you even think about it."

They'd never threatened to break a bone before; it was only a few straggled punches and a kick or two. There'd never been anything to actually hurt him before.

Richie wasn't intimidated. "Or you'll do what?" He sneered, raising his foot slightly like he would stomp on Harry.

Harry saw the opportunity and snapped at it. He crawled as fast as he could away from the gang, shooting as fast as he could to a reasonable distance. He scrambled at the ground, pushing up with his feet. He shot to his feet, staring at Richie.

The boy looked at him with a rather confused look in his eye, lowering his foot back to the ground and the path of scattered woodchips.

Harry's eyes flicked in between all of them again as if something would change. He shook his head as if it would clear thoughts, slowly backing up. His gaze fell upon Dudley and narrowed.

Harry waited only a second before turning around and booking it. He sprinted as fast as he could through the park, shooting out on the other side. The sun was closing in on the horizon, sending shadows over his path.

The path was well worn, with footprints pressed onto every part. The path ran straight up to the sidewalk on Privet Drive, so all in all, it was only a five to ten minute run there. Though Harry couldn't run all the way. He paused once. Maybe twice.

He was nine bloody years old, thank you very much.

Number four was quickly approaching when the sun started to touch the horizon. Harry trotted the rest of the way there, calming his quick and shallow breaths. He turned in every direction but didn't see any of the members of the gang, much less Dudley.

Harry crept back to the house, going into the garden. He was so, so careful not to step on anything, even hopping for a fair distance to avoid cat-grass. He ducked underneath the windowsill, nearly hitting his head on it. He waited for a second but didn't hear anything. Slowly, he peeked his head up to glance over the sill.

His gaze met a blank looking living room with a rather large telly and two long couches neatly tucked up in one corner. On the opposite wall, there was a long counter made of light tan wood and a spiderwebbed gray granite. On the wall, there was a digital clock, which Harry's attention snapped to.

 _5:48pm_

Still twelve minutes until he needed to start cooking. He ducked back underneath the windowsill, examining his surroundings. The rosebushes were right in front of him but with a careful jump of the bunch hyacinths, he would be fine. Executing it as best he could, he managed to get over with only a disturbed spot of dirt. He quickly knelt and smoothed it out, placing wood chips over it. His attention slid over to a lone patch of cat-grass by his left elbow.

Slowly, almost hypnotically, he parted the blue-green stems. The bumpy, dark green leaves and thin stalk glittering with tiny needles stared up at him, barely hidden within the cat-grass. Harry watched it sway slightly in a breeze, brushing up against the other stems. He remembered Dudley, the punch to his back, the foot squashing him into the ground.

He looked up, but couldn't see the clock from there. But from a rough guess, Harry though he might still have ten minutes before he had to cook. Reaching forward, he began to pull off some of the needles one by one, wincing whenever one stung him. The stinging nettle stood strong throughout it all.

Harry laid underneath the stairs in a tiny room that he had to curl his legs to his chest to fit comfortably. He was wide awake, having only been sent here a few minutes ago. His ears were pricked towards the ceiling, focusing, waiting.

A cry of surprise echoed through the house down to him, and Harry Potter smiled.

Dudley sure hadn't expected needles in his covers.

* * *

 **Bam! Here's a new story I've had for a while. Sorry for my WDNWTF fans, but I want to also write this.**

 **This, to my knowledge and much scourging of fanfiction, is a very different story than most. I hope you can enjoy it and even offer suggestions. That's actually something that's very important to me; I want everyone to help out with this story. SO if you have even the slightest idea for me, submit it! You just might get in and there's no bad thigns that happen, so why not? Easy way to get your way in a (hopefully) good story!**

 **But let me make it** _ **very**_ **clear: Harry is NOT going to be dark and evil. He simply has a…** _ **disorder**_ **and a certain grudge against the Dursleys. He won't be torturing them or anything. Sorry evil Harry fans… :/**

 **But anyway! Please read and review!**

 **Frost OUT!**


	2. Replanting

Harry Potter, nine-year-old extraordinaire, had never been so excited to be woken up.

Sure, the cupboard under the stairs was dark and thundered horribly whenever anyone walked down the stairs, but this time he had something he wanted to see outside of the cupboard.

Dudley Dursley.

Ever since Harry had found a baby stinging nettle in the cat-grass he was forced to garden, his entire life had changed overnight. He had taken _revenge_ on Dudley. He had gotten the last laugh.

And he couldn't wait to see the results.

A handful of tiny stinging nettle needles scattered inside of Dudley's sheets, though Harry had had to pick several out of his own skin afterward. Then he had dashed back downstairs and started to hurriedly throw ingredients to create the stew he had already planned. The meat had been all-too-quickly chopped up, sending tiny bits of fat over the counters. The noodles he had found in the back of the pantry were partially broken and he had had to break the rest to make it even. The carrots had been sliced up with the speed of a cheetah.

He had set the table, making three different settings. Then he had taken the smallest bowl the Dursley's had and scooped himself up a bowl of chicken noodle soup, barely making a dent in the bowl that was nearly the size of himself.

Sneaking away to the laundry room to eat his meal in peace and quiet, Harry had waited for Dudley to go to bed and then wake up.

Now the moment was here. He heard the familiar thudding of his Uncle pounding down the stairs, and the shower of dust fell lightly across his face, getting trapped in his hair. He coiled by the door, ready to emerge out. His fingers tapped along his thighs, already changed into his clothes for the school day.

The thudding sounded right outside his door, before stopping. Harry heard the click of the latch only seconds before Uncle Vernon's booming voice echoed throughout his skull.

"Get up, boy!"

Harry sprang out of the cupboard, nearly smacking his head on the wooden bar. But he righted himself and was ready to go, small school bag swung over his shoulders. He glanced both directions, but Dudley hadn't come down yet. Harry pouted slightly before turning to the right, heading towards the kitchen.

He walked inside, seeing Uncle Vernon already sitting at the table with three pieces of toast in front of him and the paper spread in front of his face. There wasn't even a grunt as Harry walked by, which was fine with him.

Harry headed to the fridge, carefully setting his bag by his feet. He pried open the doors, the chill from the handles seeping into his skin. He scanned the contents quickly, finding what he needed fast.

The remnants of the chicken noodle soup were packed in a small package by the floor, having been put there himself. The Dursley's always ate so much, but they wouldn't accept leftovers when Harry made them a new dinner every night. So any leftovers were shoved onto him for breakfast or lunch.

Harry was perfectly fine with this. He simply adored soup, leftover or not. He carefully pulled the package out from the fridge, testing its weight in one hand. Just enough for his breakfast. He pulled off the plastic lid, setting that on the counter. He put the soup container in the microwave, setting the timer.

It was then that he heard a distant shriek from Aunt Petunia and slow, heavy thuds of someone coming down the stairs.

It was also then that Harry realized if he was caught having needled Dudley, his head would hang.

Harry hurriedly tapped his foot, spoon already clenched in his hand. The school bag was on his shoulders and he had located his shoes, but it seemed the soup was taking extra long to cook. Uncle Vernon grunted once and Harry quickly stopped tapping his foot.

A pleasant 'ding!' later and Harry was practically ripping open the microwave to get at his soup, darting off with it to the front door. He shoved his feet in his shoes, knowing he'd tie them later. He shoveled spoonfuls of soup in his mouth, careful not to spill.

It burned a path down his throat but now he watched Uncle Vernon look up from his paper as Aunt Petunia cried out again, and Dudley's footsteps grew ever nearer. He sped back to the kitchen, dumping the empty bowl of soup into the sink. Uncle Vernon was standing up, paper clenched in one hand.

Harry's hand was inches from the door when the demon that was Aunt Petunia erupted from behind him.

"WHO'S TOUCHED MY DIDDYKINS?"

Harry swallowed the urge to laugh and wrenched open the door, speeding outside. He closed it as quietly as he could and was out on the front porch, peeking around the front door to glance at the window.

Uncle Vernon was on his feet, face a burnt red and mouth open, probably bellowing. His hands shook with a mighty rage and his paper was ripped up by his feet. Aunt Petunia was crouched in front of Dudley, eyes flicking over every part of him to see where he was injured. Her hand flew to her lips. But Dudley…

He was wailing, great tears splashing down his face and onto his pajamas. His hands were clenched in fists and his face was screwed shut.

But the priceless thing was the giant rash spreading from his neck to his cheek. It was massive and had several large red bumps, where the needles probably were.

Harry made it a few steps away from the house before almost falling over in a fit of laughter. His stomach clenched and shook, his arms limp and useless. He knew that if he saw himself his face would be as red as Uncle Vernon's.

He stayed that way for a few minutes, collapsed on the pavement in endless peals of laughter. He didn't care about whether the neighbors saw him, whether someone called the police or even if he was abducted right then and there.

 _Nothing_ was as satisfying or hilarious as what Harry had seen right there.

But soon the tears of mirth stopped falling and he was able to pick himself off of the floor. His chest still ached and his legs were noticeably weaker than before, but he knew he had to get to school soon.

Harry turned to one side and saw his school bag had fallen off, and one of his books were poking out. Stifling a grunt he picked it up, swinging it over his shoulders and wincing when the heavy books hit his back.

The teachers at his school were evil, he swore.

Sighing once more and letting a stray giggle out, Harry began the walk to his school.

 _The Urtica Dioica, also known as the common nettle or stinging nettle, is a poisonous plant native to Europe, Asia, Africa, and Northern American. This little plant brings a sting, so make sure to avoid it! The plant has broad, pattern leaves that…_

Harry sighed and shut the book, wiping at his eyes. That was the first of the books the librarian had been able to pull out for him, yet the end of lunch was only twenty-two minutes away.

He idly wondered if time was speeding up particularly for him. If so, he disliked the gesture.

Harry tapped his fingers along the spine of the book, labeled _Native Europe Plants_. The other two books were called _All About Weeds_ and _Poisonous Plants Found Right in Your Backyard!_

At least one of them had something to do with poison, so he flipped it open. The first was a table of contents, which he skimmed quickly. There was an entire chapter devoted to Nettles. His excitement growing, he flipped past dozens of chapters until he arrived at page _238_.

 _There are many different names associated with Urtica Dioica, with the most common being the Stinging Nettle. Others include the Burning Nettle, Nettle, or Nettle leaf._

 _The Nettle is a plant that has been used by cultures for generations. It has been eaten as a scavenging plant, applied medicinally to the skin, and drunk as herb tea. It has even been woven into fabric as a fiber._

 _But the hairs along its spine will inject several neurotransmitters to those who touch it, and the hairs will harden and become indented into the flesh of the toucher._

 _It lives best in partially shady areas with moist fertile soil, though it can grow well in almost all zones._

Harry shut the book, rocking it back and forth in his hand. The nettles grew well in partially shady areas, such as an area with many tall trees overhead casting shadows. A plan took seed in his mind and began to sprout.

 _Nettles, not being extremely poisonous, do not have many side effects when stung. The hair will inject as much poison that it has inside of it but will remain in the skin until removed. It is widely speculated that an overdose on nettles could result in upset stomachs and potentially diarrhea._

Diarrhea… Harry winced for the mess when he got home. Maybe he shouldn't have given Dudley such a _large_ dose.

He thought of his own little stinging nettle plant - _when did he start to think of it as his?_ \- and of the forest only ten minutes behind his house. There must be a small clearing in there somewhere, a place that a little nettle plant could grow and flourish.

He stood up, green eyes flashing to the clock above the door. He had around five minutes to get to class and put the books back. He slid the first two, _Native Europe Plants_ and _All About Weeds_ , back into their spots along the shelves. But he kept the last book and walked up to the librarian, who had been checking out two other students. Another kid looked back at him before turning back to the man.

"Mr. Kegg?" Harry said, placing the book upon the counter. The man looked down at him, bushy brown hair poking up in every which way. "I'd like to borrow this book, please."

The man looked over the cover, starting slightly when he read it. His eyes darted over to Harry, then back at the book. "School project?" He asked, taking the book from its place on the counter.

Harry paused for a second, thinking about it. He shook his head, idly wondering if he would ever get a class on poisonous plants. He wanted one.

"Okay, then." Mr. Kegg yawned slightly. "You can only have one non-school book out at a time, and it must be returned before two weeks. You know the drill." He stamped the book on the inside cover, sliding it back across the counter to the boy. \

"Okay, sir!" Harry chirped, snatching up the book and taking off to the door. He had less than a minute to get to class.

But if only Harry had read the _All About Weeds_ , he would have found a very important fact written on the first page about nettles.

 _Always use gloves when handling these plants!_

"OW!"

Another cry echoed around Privet Drive, specifically in front of number four.

Harry knelt in front of the garden, his hands buried in a small bush of cat-grass. But every few seconds he would flinch back, pulling his hands out. He would pull another needle from his skin and then plunge in again. This pattern repeated itself many, many times. But Harry Potter was the most determined nine-year-old any had ever seen and he was getting this plant out of the garden!

He carefully spread the blue-green stems, baring the plant to the world. It's dangerous stem glimmered up at him, seeming to taunt him. Harry stuck his tongue out at it.

He had been planning to grab it by the roots and pull it out like he did with all of the pricker plants he had to weed. But this nettle's stem seemed to extend into the ground, and he couldn't dig lest he break cat-grass roots. That could _not_ happen. He tried again, reaching for a relatively bare patch of stem. A second later, he was pulling back his hand and pulling another needle from it.

"Boy!" He heard a shout and he looked up to the front porch. There, in all of her long necked glory, stood Aunt Petunia, hands on her hips. She had stayed in Dudley's room all day and hadn't come out, and Harry had thought he could get away with it. He let the cat-grass slid back over the nettle, standing up.

"What are you doing?" She sniffed, delicately walking over to him. She stopped directly over him, noticing him over a patch of cat-grass. "Are you harming my plants?" Her brow began lowering and her hands twitched.

"No, Aunt Petunia," Harry replied dutifully. He knelt down again, shoving his hands into the stems. He pushed them apart, baring the nettle out to her. He suddenly wondered if Aunt Petunia could recognize that Dudley had been stung by a nettle. His back prickled slightly.

"Oh!" She sniffed. "Why haven't you gotten rid of it yet?"

Harry couldn't stop the slight blush spreading over his cheeks. "I can't grab it," he explained, "it keeps stinging my hands." He held out his hands, which were a bright red. There were several small bumps, but he had already pulled out the needles.

"Well, you idiot boy. You are allowed to go to the shed in the back and grab a pair of gloves."

Harry almost shot up, surprised. How could he have been so stupid as to not ask for gloves? Aunt Petunia would have let him if he was getting rid of a stinging nettle!

"But if I find you using the new ones I bought, I will let Vernon deal with you." She promised, turning on her heel and stalking back to the house. He waited until she had shut the front door before he shot to his feet, running around the side of the house. There was a small shed there that Uncle Vernon kept his lawn mower in.

He pulled open the door, walking inside. A wave of dust hit him like a wave, and he quickly coughed and waved hands in front of his face to clear it. He peered inside, looking around.

There were two large shelves on either wall, opposite of each other. They were neatly organized with trowels, handheld rakes, and several little bags of vitamin pellets. The mower was parked in the very back, covered under a tan tarp to prevent dust from covering it. He walked inside, scanning along the shelves. Nothing looked like it had been touched in a very, very long time.

He found a pair of gloves, ones that were covered in a thick layer of dust. He picked them and shook them violently, revealing their colors. They were a dark green with brown pads on the palm and fingers and looked kind of pretty. Harry shook them again, before slipping his hands in them. They fit well enough, but when he shook his hands they slid around a bit. But when his hands grew bigger they'd fit perfectly.

He turned around and walked out of the shed, carefully shutting the door behind him. He didn't want to risk Aunt Petunia's ire. He noticed there wasn't a latch on the door.

Harry trotted back around the side of the house to the garden, easily picking out the bush of cat-grass that held the nettle inside. The stems were all messed up, pointing in directions they were supposed to. He would have to fix that before Aunt Petunia saw.

He knelt again, spotting the dark green leaves. He reached forward, carefully. His hand closed around the stem.

There were no tiny needles stabbing into him.

He whooped with delight, fully grabbing onto the stem. He carefully avoided pulling on any of the leaves, before yanking it out the ground. Its roots gave way with a slight shower of dirt. He held it up, looking at its rather pitiful size now that it wasn't trying to stab him.

He stood up, still tightly holding onto the plant. He started to walk towards the house, slipping around the edge and onto the sidewalk that ran next to the house. Harry started to run, dirt falling from the roots with every step he took.

The path seemed longer now that he was worried about the nettle, but he paid it no mind, running hard. The sun, despite being a quarter of the way to the horizon, beat down harshly on his face. But he could see the rusty swing set of the park and he knew he was close. He darted around the wood chips and headed towards the woods.

He had been in here times before. The trees were spaced far apart, large enough to drive Uncle Vernon's car through. He walked on, staring up at the sky. He needed to find a place with partial sun.

After only a few minutes of walking, he found it.

A small clearing that had two small trees on either side. They weren't tall enough to block the sun so beams of light filtered through and smacked against the ground, lighting up the seabed of green grass and clover. Harry grinned.

He knelt down, closing a spot of sunlight right in the middle. He switched hands so that his left was holding the nettle and started to dig with his right. His hand dipped easily into the dirt, and he could feel the slight dampness of water in it. This was _perfect_.

Once the hole was big enough he plopped the nettle right inside of it, its roots buried. He dumped handfuls of dirt over it until it was flat ground with a thin green plant poking out.

He settled back on his heels, a smile on his lips. He had saved a stinging nettle plant from Aunt Petunia and gotten himself something to take care of. He watched as a sunbeam came down and hit it.

Something brown flashed in the corner of his vision. He swiveled his head to the right and caught a sight of something coming over the roots of a small tree.

It was a snake. It had light brown scales with a black zigzag down its back, looking like it water as it slid over and under branches and grass. Harry watched it curiously. Aunt Petunia said he should always kill snakes if he saw them, but he was already disobeying her by keeping the nettle, so he didn't think he should follow her rules now.

As the snake grew nearer, Harry frowned. Someone was talking.

" _Hello_?" He asked, not noticing his voice slipping into hissing undertones.

* * *

 **Sweet! Another chapter! Hope you guys enjoy this; I enjoyed writing it. But seriously, my hand is cramping. Two long chapters in two short days. You guys are spoiled xD**

 **Anyway! So now Harry's got himself a stinging nettle and a meeting with a snake. This snake, for those who ask, will _not_ be magical and tell Harry everything about the wizarding world. I do respect stories like that, but it seems a bit contrived and too easy. I'm going to make Harry work for his knowledge of magic!Now, I know that most stories would shoot directly to Harry going onto the train to Hogwarts with a little backstory for his new personality, but I've decided to do it in a bit more detail. So yeah, by my planning, there will be fourteen chapters until Harry goes to Diagon Alley. **

**But Harry's also got a stinging nettle in his own little clearing. Yes, this is on public property. Yes, someone could find the clearing. Yes, that could be a plot point xD**

 **Now, I know that most stories would shoot directly to Harry going onto the train to Hogwarts with a little backstory for his new personality, but I've decided to do it in a bit more detail. So yeah, by my planning, there will be fourteen chapters until Harry goes to Diagon Alley.**

 **But hey, if you really want me to speed up, just tell me!**

 **Please read and review!**

 **Frost OUT!**


	3. Snake-y Talk

The snake stopped moving, body half frozen over a chunk of wood. Harry didn't move either, but he was focusing on the voice he knew he heard.

" _Hello_?" He asked again, his head cocking to one side. He slowly stood up, leaving the stinging nettle on this ground. His emerald eyes flashed around the clearing, searching for anyone to be there.

" _Speaker_?" Another voice answers back, much louder now. It sounds strange to Harry's ears, like a curious accent he's never heard before.

" _Um, yeah. I can speak_." Harry was very confused. Wasn't the person talking to him? Why was he asking whether he could speak? He turned around in a circle, searching for a person. The trees were thin enough that it would be hard to hide behind. Was it Dudley, messing with his head again? Harry spun around when he heard the crack of a branch.

Something pressed against his ankle. His head shot down, searching for what it could be.

The snake inched closer, thin body curling around itself. Its tail flicked slightly against the ground, and its head bent back until its black eyes met Harry's green ones. It was only inches from his foot.

Harry cocked his head to one side. The snake seemed harmless, only around a foot long and an inch thick. But it was acting very strangely. Aunt Petunia said that snakes would kill him; so why didn't this one?

" _You are a Speaker_." The snake opened its mouth. It was the same hissing accent, the one with the strange sounding voice fluctuations and the drawn out letters.

Harry lasted about three seconds standing before falling backward.

His back hit the ground painfully, knocking his glasses off. Harry didn't move for the next couple of seconds, eyes wide and confused. He fumbled around, blind, before his hand landed on them. He shoved them back on his face, blinking furiously until it the world came back in focus.

The snake moved closer, twisting against the ground. It raised its head, peering over Harry's chest to look at his face. It had a triangular head, with large black eyes. It flicked a tongue out at him, which was thin and forked.

" _Have you never spoken to a snake before_?" There was honest curiosity in the snake's - _snake's_ \- voice. The last word rose slightly in pitch, _just like a humans'_.

" _Um, no. Can't say I have_." His words came out in the same strange accent, as though he had spoken it all of his life. His tongue seemed to shudder as he spoke, making his words slid over each other. " _How - exactly - am I doing this_?"

The snake cocked its head to one side, such a human-like gesture it made Harry almost choke. " _You are a Speaker. Speakers can speak to snakes_."

" _We- well, then_." Harry ran a hand through his hair, tangling the black locks even more. " _Can't say I expected this_." He looked down at the snake, who was curling up until it was only a tiny brown dot against the clovers.

" _Are you dangerous_?" Harry asked curiously, tilting his head to one side. He slowly shifted his weight until he was on his stomach, his head very close to the snakes. Black eyes met green, curiosity in both.

The snake bared fangs that extended out of its mouth until they were almost a inch long. " _I can be_." Harry almost flinched back but instead leaned forward studying the fangs. They were perfectly thin and painfully sharp at the bottom. He quickly looked away in case he got a cut from just looking at them.

" _Are you a girl or a boy_?" Harry wanted to pet him, just on a whim. To see whether those shiny scales were are cool-feeling as they looked.

The snake stared at him, his black tongue flicking out again. " _I am a boy_."

" _Do you have a name_?" Harry wondered what kind of name a snake would have - slither? Scales?

" _Snakes have no need for names_." He curled in on himself, his tail tightening against his body.

" _Well, I want to give you a name,"_ Harry argued back. His fingers tapped along his leg, excitement growing in his chest. " _It would be cool! It would something poisonous_." His eyes flashed to the right and caught sight of a thin green stem glittering with small needles.

" _Nettle! That's what your name is_!" Harry exclaimed. His eyes shot to the snake's as if looking for approval.

The snake reared back, hisses coming from his mouth. " _That is a weak plant that cannot even kill_ ," his lips did not move but he seemed to be radiating a frown. " _It is not worthy to be my name_."

" _Well_." Harry frowned. That was the only poison he knew. But he remembered where he learned of it. His eyes lit up once again. " _But I go to school tomorrow! I can find a name for you there. Do you want to come_?"

He seemed to be considering, his scales flashing when the light hit them. He slowly uncurled, sliding closer to Harry.

" _I will go_." He decided, ignoring Harry's whoop of excitement. " _But only for a name from a Speaker_."

" _Great_!" Harry grinned at him, bright white teeth flashing. He shot to his knees, leaning down to still be close to the snake. " _I'll be here in the morning. Just wait_!"

He turned to run back to the house but instead paused. The snake was turning to slither away, not saying anything. Harry darted up to him and ran a single finger over his back, feeling the silky scales sliding together.

Then he turned and bolted away, crowing happily.

The snake twisted around to look at the fleeing boy. What a strange Speaker.

Harry was not enjoying coming back to the house. Aunt Petunia was crooning over Dudley, who was wrapped in blankets on the couch watching the telly. He seemed to be trying to ignore her, his attention focused on the screen with brightly colored characters in front of him.

To Harry's disappointment, the bright red rash that had been over most of Dudley's face had faded to a dull pink and had shrunk greatly in size. It barely skimmed his jaw and his neck was only slightly better. Harry hid a frown that all of his hard work had come to only a day of entertainment he didn't even get to see.

"You! Boy!" Uncle Vernon barked, walking through the hallway into the room. Aunt Petunia shot him a dark look for being so loud around the obviously recovering Dudley, but he continued to shout at Harry.

"Make Dudley something to eat. What do you want?" He diverted his attention to the boy on the couch, who seemed to have realized the conversation was about him and had turned to listen.

"I want cake." He said, his lips twitching up in a little grin. "Chocolate with lots of icing."

Uncle Vernon nodded sharply, looking proud of his son. "How long until you finish?" He snapped the question out to Harry, who was frozen only inches from the door.

Harry was quivering slightly. What if he talked in snake to his Uncle? That would be the pinnacle of freakiness; he might even get thrown out of the house! He sucked in a breath. How could he turn it off?

"Boy! Answer me!"

Harry took as deep of a breath as he could and said back, "Um, an hour." His voice! It wasn't snake-y and weird! His shoulders unclenched.

Uncle Vernon grunted and turned back toward Dudley, plunking down on the couch next to him and grabbing the remote. Harry moved toward the kitchen, relieved.

At least he didn't sound weird with is relatives.

" _Stop twitching_ ," Harry grumbled under his breath. He felt scales press against his chest tighter than before and grumbled in discomfort.

He had had the brilliant idea of having the snake wrap around his chest so none of his teachers would see him. Sure, it had worked, though he had gotten a few strange looks when his shirt rippled in a way _not_ from the wind or when he hissed softly.

But having a snake wrapped around himself all day was painful and walking down the hallway was the _worst_. People pressed upon him from all sides, eager to get to lunch and escape the classrooms. Harry, being a rather short boy, was thrown this way and that through the sea of people, trying to keep his arms wrapped around his chest to protect the snake.

But eventually he saw the open doorway to the library and he dove for it, splitting his way through the crowd and popping out in the relatively empty room. Mr. Kegg shot him a rather amused look, sitting down at his desk with the computer turned on in front of him.

Harry managed to smile at him before the snake tightened again against his chest, to which he winced slightly. He walked up to Mr. Kegg, placing his hands on the counter.

"Where are the books on poisonous plants?" He asked, his voice squeaking at the very edge in the way his young voice to particular pleasure in.

Mr. Kegg frowned slightly, flicking his fingers over the keyboard. After a few seconds it 'ding'ed, but he didn't show Harry where they were just yet. "Are you sure it's not for a project?" He asked, looking a little curious and worried.

Harry shook his head, wishing he would just tell him where they were so he could get the snake off of his chest.

"You seem very interested in them." Mr. Kegg looked over the counter at him. "Any reason why?"

"I don't know, sir," Harry said honestly. "They're just really cool and I want to collect them." He blinked. Harry didn't quite remember that ever being part of his goals but it seemed to slide smoothly in there. Why had he said it?

"Collect?" There was something flashing in Mr. Kegg's eyes.

Harry frowned, thinking deep. _Why_ would he want to collect them? "No idea, sir." He finally answered. "I just do."

Mr. Kegg stood up, eyeing Harry. His eyes flicked to his computer and then he was walking, heading towards an aisle. Harry followed him, eyes memorizing the position that the books were in. "Here they are."

"Thank you, sir." Harry smiled up at him before looking over the titles. _Dangerous Poisons Found in the Wild_ seemed promising, so he snatched that up and headed to the back of the library, where several puffy chairs and tables were at. He found a big chair and headed towards it, seeing that there were no other students in the library.

He plopped down it in and immediately a snake fell from his chest, sliding out the bottom of his shirt. It curled up on itself, shaking wildly like a dog covered in water. " _This was your idea_ ," he hissed annoyedly up at Harry.

" _Shush._ " Harry had noticed that when he was speaking to him, his voice turned snake-y. But when he was talking to humans, he was fine. That was cool and _very_ useful.

He flipped open the book and found an identification page. He searched for it, finding it near the end of the book. The snake slithered onto an armrest, curling up tightly.

The pages were full of pictures, ones of different colored plants, flowers, and berries. Harry found it went on for several pages and he flipped through each one, eyes scanning over the page.

A bright red berry caught his attention. It was a dark scarlet, but the top of the berry was pitch black. They were separated with a clean line, looking like an Easter egg dipped in two different colors. He searched for its name and found it below the picture. _Rosary Peas._

" _Rosary_?" He hissed to the snake, his voice low. He pointed to the picture, and the snake angled his head towards it.

The snake stiffened. " _That's a girl's name_!"

Harry quirked his lips, eyes flicking over the rosary peas. He caught sight of a page number next to the name and flipped to it. There was a lot of words on the page, next to a giant picture of the peas. He found a little section called _Poison_ , which he quickly started reading out loud so the snake could hear.

" _Rosary peas are filled with a dangerous toxin known as abrin. The dose inside a single pea is enough to kill a fully grown adult male_."

Harry turned to the snake, whose head was cocked to one side. " _Abrin_?" He asked, subtly crossing his fingers behind his back.

The snake paused for a second before nodding. " _It is a dangerous poison. It is worthy of being my name_."

Harry grinned wildly, scooping up the snake and holding him inches from his face. Abrin squirmed, but Harry held him. Harry looked him over, examining the pattern on his back. " _Let's find out what kind of snake you are_."

He put Abrin on the chair before standing up. He walked back over to the section that the books were at, scanning the titles. He didn't have any luck until he stumbled across _Venomous Snakes and How to Avoid Them_. Grinning, he plucked it off the shelf and darted back to his chair. He checked the clock, seeing he still had almost thirty minutes.

He had given up his lunch for the past two days, but his teachers were nice enough to let him eat an apple in class, so he was fine.

He flipped open the book, finding the identification on the first ten pages. He glanced in between Abrin and the book every few seconds until he finally settled on one with light brown scales and a black zigzag pattern over its back.

He grinned at Abrin before turning to that page, muttering, " _Now we find out what you are_."

The top of the page said, in giant black letters, _Adder_. He started to read.

 _Vipera Berus is the only venomous snake in Britain, but that doesn't decrease its worth. The common adder can live in many different terrains and has adapted to have different behavioral patterns for the area they live in._

 _Thankfully, adders are not that dangerous to humans. Their venom has a very low fatality rate. Symptoms of being bit include sudden, acute pain and swelling, with bruises along the entire limb._

Harry frowned. There was only a single venomous snake in the entirety of Britain? Then he wildly shook her head. Why did that matter to him?

Abrin coiled up on the armrest, tongue flicking in and out. " _I thought I was more dangerous_ ," he confessed to Harry. " _That my venom would be feared_."

" _Me too_ ," Harry said back. He sighed, flipping the book closed. Then he turned and faced Abrin, face serious.

" _Okay, Abrin. We have got to work something different out_." He stretched out a hand, offering it to the adder. " _What about my arm? Can you wrap around that_?"

That, Harry discovered, was also a terrible idea. Adders, no matter how hard the both of them tried, were not constrictors. Therefore, it was terribly hard for him to stay on Harry's arm without slipping. He needed something to lay in without having to physically be wrapped around Harry.

" _Okay_ ," Harry gasped out as they almost knocked over the chair. " _You know what? Abrin? I'm putting you on my neck. Just don't move all day and we should be fine. Because I've got two minutes to get to class and this is not going to work_."

Abrin shot him a rather tired snake glare before letting Harry pick him up. Harry gently arranged him around his neck, putting his head on the left side. Then he took the flaps on his thick collared shirt and flipped them up, hiding Abrin from view. He carefully put the two books back, knowing he still had _Poisonous Plant Found Right in Your Background!_ in his school bag. He walked out, consciously aware of Abrin's weight on his collarbones.

Mr. Kegg was calling someone, the phone held tight to his ear. His eyes followed Harry as he left, but soon Harry was by the entrance, facing the flood of students in the hallways. He took a deep breath preparing himself.

Harry Potter, the bravest nine-year-old any had ever seen, jumped into the fray of students.

" _Almost home_ ," Harry whispered to Abrin as he neared number four Privet Drive. " _Do you want me to put you back in the clearing_?"

The snake raised its head up slightly, hissing into Harry's ear. It would have looked very strange to anyone watching, Harry thought idly. " _I believe I want to come with you. If I am not very dangerous it is better to be with a Speaker than without_."

Harry grinned, though Abrin couldn't see it. He reached up, letting his fingers touch the snake's scales to get his attention. " _Then I will have to hide you. I don't think my relatives would like seeing you_."

There was a pause. " _What should I do_?"

Harry paused, thinking quickly. " _I know_!" He quickly sped towards the house, making sure not to be seen in any windows. He made his way toward the shed in the corner of the yard, where he'd put his gloves back. Slowly opening the door, he crept inside.

The dust still burned against his eyes and lungs, but it moved forward, heading towards the farthest corner. He cleared away the area, moving a bucket in front of the corner to block it from view.

He carefully pried Abrin from his neck, laying him on the ground. The snake slithered over to the corner, curling up in a ball. He stared at Harry, black eyes unblinking.

" _I'll be back as soon as I can_ ," Harry promised. " _I'll leave the door a little open so you can get out to get food if you need_."

Abrin nodded, lowering his head to rest on his scales. His eyes flickered close.

Harry smiled before turning around and heading out of the shed. He carefully left it around an inch or two open, big enough for Abrin to slide out of. He then ran back to the house. He had to start cooking for the Dursleys soon.

He neared the ordinary brown door and grabbed the handle, noticing it was cold. He pulled open the door, hurrying inside. He dumped his shoes underneath a neat table for Dudley's and headed for the kitchen, intent on dropping off his schoolbag.

Only to see Uncle Vernon standing in the kitchen, face a brilliant red. His eyes snapped to Harry.

"Boy!" He all but roared, spittle flying from his mouth. Dudley and Aunt Petunia were gone. It was only the two of them.

"Do you know I got a call today?" He said, knuckles cracking. "A call from one of your teachers. The librarian."

Harry stiffened.

Abrin!

"He told me the _interesting_ choice of books you've been looking up and the behavior patterns you've been showing."

Harry cocked his head. What was Mr. Kegg talking about?

Uncle Vernon's voice grew and grew in volume. "ODDLY convenient that you're looking up poisons when our Dudders gets hurt, isn't it?"

Harry's eyes widened. He started to shake his head vehemently.

"He _also_ told me his suspicions about you. About how-" he sucked in a deep breath, eyes narrowing. "About how you've got some _strange disorder_. Venenamania."

Harry barely dared to speak but had to. "What's venena-"

"A _FREAK_!" Uncle Vernon spun wildly and slammed his hands on the table. "A NO-GOOD FREAK OBSESSED WITH POISON!"

His hands shot forward and grabbed at Harry's collar. Harry choked, his feet not touching the ground. Vernon leaned closer to him, eyes filled with a dangerous anger.

"And I will _not_ ," he shook Harry, knocking an arm of his glasses off, "have _you_ harming Dudley in _any_ way."

He hauled Harry through the kitchen, entering the thin hallway. He wrenched open the cupboard door and threw Harry down.

"And you _won't_ be coming out!"

* * *

 **OoOOOoo**

 _ **PLOT TWIST**_

 **I hope you enjoy! Three bloody chapters in two days, giving this story over ten thousand words. I don't think you understand how lucky you are.**

 **Meh.**

 **So yes, I know that the librarian is overacting a little bit. But I'm trying to paint him as superstitious and untrusting of students. If I didn't do that, (probably), well, then yell at me. Go right ahead.**

 **But now Harry's got a disorder and the Dursley's know about it! Yay! Who saw _that_ coming? I know that most of you guys don't know what venenamania is, but don't worry. I have nearly anentire chapter dedicated to Harry finding out what it is. So just sit tight and wait for that! It'll come soon.**

 **Also, the snake's got a name! What do you guys think of Abrin?**

 **But anyway, I really like how this story is going, and I definitely think I'm adding a little spin to most Harry Potter fanfics. But if you notice any cliches, please tell me!**

 **I mean it!**

 **I'll put it in block letters - IF YOU SEE ANY CLICHES, TELL ME.**

 **I want to fix them!**

 **Anyway, please read and review!**

 **Frost OUT!**


	4. Venenamania

The cupboard seemed much darker than Harry remembered it.

Oh, he had spent a good amount of his life in this room, he knew that. He knew nearly everything about it. Every crack along the wall, every inch of the floor, where he neatly stacked his clothes in the corner. He knew where most of the spiders nested and he knew where a cleaning liquid had once been spilled though the smell had long since past. This cupboard, despite being a _cupboard_ , was the only home he had. It wasn't nearly as big or fancy as the rooms Dudley had or even the guest room for Marge, but it was _his_ and that was all that mattered.

Harry idly wondered when he had gotten so possessive.

He was curled up on the mattress, head on his knees and eyes closed. The dark was dark enough he couldn't see any better when they were open, and he didn't waste the effort. Harry wonder whether his Uncle had covered up the little vents on the door, but, since he was still able to breathe, he dismissed it.

Sometime during the night - at least he had assumed it was night, as there had been no movement outside and the faint roar of snoring had started - had thrown in something. He hadn't been able to see what it was, but by carefully sniffing it and touch, he had discovered it was two chunks of bread. He had smiled and bitten into it, enjoying the taste though they were a bit old.

He had laid quietly in his bed, the blanket pulled up to his chin. He stared up at the fading yellow stars attached to his ceiling, along with the little blue planet. They were chipped slightly, but they beat back the darkness.

There hadn't been any more food, and his stomach rumbled unpleasantly. He was waiting for when Uncle Vernon would come and let him out. The cupboard never lasted long, only a few days when he was bad or freaky. But now there was something wrong with him.

Venenamania. He had no idea what it meant but was instantly curious. "A no-good freak obsessed with poison." That had been what Uncle Vernon said, and Harry had had many hours to think over it. He wouldn't quite call himself obsessed, but he had noticed that he was very interested in them. What had he said to Mr. Kegg?

I want to _collect_ them.

Harry wondered what he would do with them if he collected any. He had his stinging nettle and a little clearing in the back to plant more poisons for himself. He had a dangerous snake and - _oh_.

Harry stiffened, eyes going wide in the dim. _Abrin_!

His Adder! He was in the shed for who _knows_ how long, when Harry had promised to go and get him. At least Harry had left the door open; he feared to think about what might have happened if he hadn't.

He rocked back and forth, fingers tapping quickly along his thighs. He stared at the door, willing it to open. Oh, for now of all times for his Uncle to lock him in here!

He'd show the fat man; he'd become the _best_ venenamania ever to live. He didn't quite know what it truly meant yet, but there, he made a promise. His Uncle was trying to lock him away from his snake, and if it was because his snake was venomous, he didn't care. He would find a way to take revenge on Uncle Vernon the same way he did to Dudley. Locked in a cupboard under the stairs by his own family, nine-year-old Harry Potter made a promise to become a venenamanic, no matter the consequences.

So it was rather a surprise to him when the cupboard door clicked open.

He closed his eyes instantly, the light smacking into him like an actual wave. Sparks flashed through his eyelids, but when the burn faded he opened them slowly. The door was propped open by a thick meaty hand, and its owner was currently staring in at him.

Harry Potter and Vernon Dursley held eye contact for several seconds, piercing green against bright blue. One was narrowed in anger, the other in determination.

For Harry did not forget the promise he had made in that cupboard. A promise to be as different from Uncle Vernon as humanly possible. To embrace this freakiness that he had tried to squash out.

"Out." Uncle Vernon snapped out, pushing the door open fully. He moved out of the way, leaving the entrance open. Harry slowly crept out, ducking his head to avoid the wooden door. He stood up slowly, his back popping in the way that it seemed to love doing. He cracked his knuckles, the sound bright and clear in the room.

He saw the vents of the doors had been partially covered up with what appeared to be black cloth. He could see tiny holes poked through it, but there were few. Harry guessed Aunt Petunia had put that up. He couldn't see Uncle Vernon having the precision to put it on correctly.

He walked towards the kitchen, catching sight of the school bag he had dropped when Uncle Vernon had dragged him toward his cupboard. He stooped slightly, snatching up the bag in one hand. He swung it over his shoulders, the heavy book on poisons hitting him square in the back. There was no one else in the kitchen. There weren't any dishes either, so Harry could guess Aunt Petunia hadn't gotten Dudley up yet.

He strode towards the cupboard, his neck prickling from his Uncle's acute gaze on him. Kneeling, he popped open the door. There was a small bag of bread near the floor, cheap white stuff much different from the high-quality bread Dudley got whenever he craved toast. Harry scooped it up, tucking it against his chest.

He made himself a piece of toast, picking up his shoes. Harry slipped them on easily, fingers flicking over the laces. He grabbed the browned piece of bread and headed toward the door.

Uncle Vernon hadn't said a word to him other than to wake him up from his cupboard, but his eyes followed Harry on every step of the way. He didn't stop until Harry had closed to door, snapping him off from the inside world.

Harry waited about three seconds before taking off to the shed in the back.

His feet nearly slammed into the garden but he wheeled to one side, ripping up two thin patches of dirt. But he carried on his way, bag pounding on his back.

He arrived at the shed, wrenching open the door. He was met with darkness.

" _Abrin_!" He cried, his voice already slipping into hissing undertones.

A brown snake head lifted itself up from the corner of the room, neatly hidden behind a bucket. The head ducked down again but then a body emerged from behind its cover, the black zigzag on his back blending into the shadows of the room. " _Speaker_?"

" _Oh yes, it's me_!" Harry lunged forward, falling on his knees in front of the snake. He quickly ran his hands over the scales, picking him up despite the snake's annoyed hiss. " _I'm so sorry_!"

The snake made a rather slow hiss. " _For being missing for a little while? I see no reason why this should bother you. I am quite used to being alone and even prefer it at times_."

" _Oh_." Harry was drawn up. He didn't quite think about it that way. He knew he sometimes preferred being alone; why would a snake be any different? " _Sorry_."

Abrin shook himself, before slithering forward up Harry's arm. He curled around his neck, resting there easily. " _You can apologize by not taking me to the horrid place you call school_."

Harry grinned, reaching a hand up to tuck Abrin's tail closer to his body. He flipped up his collars, hiding the snake as well as he could. " _Deal_."

A thought sprouted up in his mind. Venenamania; he needed to learn what that meant. He knew it had something to do with poisons but he didn't know anything else. " _I've got an idea; how about we go to the library? The town one? I can find a book about poisons and you don't have to be attacked by students_."

Abrin hissed slightly, thinking it over. He tucked himself closer to Harry's body, head resting right on his collarbone. " _That is agreeable_." His scales slid over Harry's skin.

Harry grinned, mind spinning. He knew the fastest route to the public library would take him around twenty minutes. But what about school?

He knew he had to go to school to get smart and find a job. But he had promised Abrin that he wouldn't go to school. Uncle Vernon had said he had to go to school.

His mind made itself up in an instant.

" _Come on, Abrin_ ," he hissed to the snake. " _We're going to the library_."

Venenamania, as it turned out, was a scarier thing than Harry had imagined. He found it under the chapter _Toxicomania_.

 _Venenamania_ \- _The fascination with poisons and venoms of all kind. One diagnosed does not feel the need to consume or become infected with them, but rather to obsessively collect them. Those diagnosed have shown urges to use them on others. In any situation with a poison or venom is introduced, the diagnosed will be overcome with an uncontrollable urge to go and either study or collect the poison or venom. These urges can grow in power until the user will test out poisons on themselves. Venenamania will make the diagnosed helplessly gather venoms and poisons without any natural reason for it. Those with venenamania often experience possessive and unnatural urges._

" _Freakiness_ ," Harry muttered to Abrin as his eyes flicked over the page. " _So that's why Uncle Vernon didn't like it_."

Venenamania was a rather scary thought but Harry didn't care. If this was what he had to become to completely oppose his Uncle, so be it. _Obsessively collects poisons and venoms_.

Harry stood up, the heavy book of _Mental Disorders_ snapping shut on his lap. He had tucked his collars up as far as they could but Abrin's brown scales flashed sometimes and he had gotten several strange looks.

" _I want more than just my nettle_ ," he whispered. And he did; the stinging nettle only caused a little pain and a rash. He wanted something a bit more poisonous, something he could take care of and protect.

Abrin tucked himself closer to Harry's neck, lifting his head up to hiss in Harry's ear. " _Then go. Who will stop you if you do not let them_?"

Harry grinned at his snake - _when did he become his_ \- and walked towards the front desk. He slipped the book back in its little niche on the shelf, squeezing it until it laid flat against all the others next to it.

Two different librarians were sitting at a counter, one typing on a computer and another helping a person check out a book. Harry headed towards the woman on the computer, hunching his shoulders to hide Abrin better.

"Excuse me?" He asked, voice squeaking. He noticed his voice sounded deeper, smoother when he was talking snake-y. That reminded him. He definitely needed to come up with a better than 'snake-y'.

The woman looked down, a kind look in her bright brown eyes. "Yes?"

"Where can I find a gardening store?" Abrin shuffled near his ear and Harry resisted the desperate urge to laugh from the tickling.

"Oh, well." The woman paused in thought, her fingers idly tapping on the counter. Her expression brightened. "Take a turn left out of here and it's the third store down. There's a bigger one downtown if you want to go there?"

"No, thank you!" Harry smiled brightly at her and sped out of the building. He carefully stopped in front of the library, turning left. And lo and behold, three stores down a sign pronounced _Pots, Plants and Other Important Things_. Harry grinned and opened the door, a pleasant 'ding!' announcing his arrival.

The store was all aisles. The square foot of it wasn't very large, but the three long rows down the center dominated the entire room. The small counter in the corner barely took up any room.

A man stood behind the counter, flicking down a magazine the second he saw Harry enter. He smiled warmly at the tiny boy.

" _See anything poisonous_?" Harry said under his breath, walking over to the first row. He scanned the first row, cursing himself for not researching any poisonous plants before coming here.

Abrin pressed his nose against Harry's skin, gaining his attention. He flicked his tail downwards, and Harry's eyes traced it.

His gaze fell across his book bag. The bag that had a distinctly book-shaped lump in it.

"Yes!" Harry crowed, reaching over to it and pulling out the book _Poisonous Plants Found Right in Your Backyard!_ He flipped it open, letting the significantly lighter school bag fall against his side. He flipped it open to a random page near the back and glanced at the picture there.

It was of a purples flower shaped like a cone, thin and hollow. The edges curled out slightly like a cup. The insides were a lighter pink, with a bright yellow center. It was in a bunch of other flowers like it. Harry was instantly attracted to it, especially when he saw the warning underneath it.

 _Poisonous!_

His eyes flicked to the heading over the picture. _Foxglove._

There was a short paragraph underneath, which Harry devoured like a starving child.

 _Foxglove, part of the family Digitalis, is a very common plant is gardens. It thrives best in acidic soil, such as the earth surrounding forests, moorlands, and sea-cliffs. This little plant survives very well in its home. But other than its pleasing appearance, which makes many plant it in their home gardens, this sweet little bloom packs a hidden punch._

 _Every single part of this plant is poisonous, from its seeds and roots to its leaves and flowers. Exposure can cause symptoms, though mostly only for rather young children. Ingestion, however, is far more serious. Early symptoms include nausea, vomiting, delirium, and severe headaches. In larger does, however, Foxglove can cause tremors, convulsions, and even deadly disturbances of the heart._

 _This plant is poisonous to both human and animal, so maybe you should think twice before picking this flower based on its colors!_

Harry was so hooked on this plant he might as well have been a fish. This was _well_ beyond a step up from a stinging nettle. Deadly disturbances of the heart indeed.

He held the book up to his neck, letting Abrin see the picture. He read the description out to him, focusing mainly on the poison. Not a second passed before he heard the approving hiss.

" _Together, we will be much more dangerous with this with us. I believe that we should definitely get it_." Abrin curled tighter around his neck, fangs bared. Harry hissed at him, flipping the collars back up.

He walked up and down the aisle, looking for any sign of the bright purple flowers. He caught a flash of pink and turned towards it, but it was only the hyacinths he knew so well from his Aunt Petunia's garden. He frowned, and Abrin hissed is displease. Harry idly quieted him, face drawn up in concentration.

Then he remembered the man behind the counter, and his face broke out in a smile.

Harry wandered out of the aisle, his path sending him straight towards the man behind the counter. Abrin coiled tighter around his neck, laying perfectly still as to not be seen.

The man looked up at the sound of Harry, face breaking out in a smile again. He set down his magazine, which had a large red and black berry on it.

"Excuse me?" Harry asked, focusing on the man. He lifted the book onto the counter, carefully inserting his fingers in it to keep his page. He opened his mouth, feeling a bit self-conscious. "Do you have-" he paused to look at the title again. "Foxglove?"

"Foxglove?" The man thought for a second, eyes staring off into space. Then he snapped his fingers, eyes lighting up. He grinned at Harry, showing pearly whites. "Yep. Right this way."

He led Harry to the third aisle, waving a hand to get him to follow. They walked only slightly down the length, the man searching over the rows before his gaze snapped to one two feet from the ground. He pointed to a pack of seeds with the same purple blooms over it and the word _Foxglove_ scrawled across the top.

Harry grinned, leaning down to grab it. It seemed light in his hands, but through the thin clearing area on the front of the package he could see inside of it, and there was a multitude of seeds inside. He flipped it over and saw something he'd never accounted for.

 _9 pounds_

Harry froze. He didn't have money.

The man talked on without seeming to see Harry's inner plight. "What do you want with Foxglove? They're a gorgeous plant, don't get me wrong, but they can be pretty dangerous when handled wrong."

Abrin nudged him when he didn't answer immediately. "Um, my mom loves purple. So I thought she'd love these." He shot out, mind still racing to stink of money.

 _How could he be so stupid?_

The man seemed to notice Harry staring at the price. "Let me tell you something. I'll only charge you seven pounds. If there's someone different here when you come in, tell them James said you could." He winked at Harry before walking back up to his desk.

Harry nodded distractedly. He hooked the little seed bag back on its spot, watching the little seeds tumble around and fall inside the package. Abrin nudged against him comfortingly, seeming to understand that they could get them. Harry turned and started to walk out of the store. James grinned at him and gave him the thumbs up before turning back to his magazine. Harry finished walking out of the store, hearing the pleasant little bell ringing as he shut the door.

" _How could I forget about money, Abrin_?" He signed, lowering his head.

Something shiny caught his attention. He looked down to it.

It was a pound, lying only inches from his foot.

Harry grinned. He still had a chance to buy those flowers.

* * *

 **Giving a HUGe shoutout to Charm Caster1127, who was an amazing help with the foxglove facts.**

 **So hey! How are you guys enjoying the story so far? I've been cranking these chapters out like I'm on fire despite the fact I'm supposed to be working on my novel :/**

 **So don't get used to it.**

 **But anyway! I hope you guys enjoy these chapters. And I haven't gotten any messages telling me about a cliche, which might be good, but it might also be bad because maybe no one's talking about a big one!**

 **Please tell me whether I'm being ordinary! I want to be different!**

 **Please read and review!**

 **Frost OUT!**


	5. Money and a Cat

People, as Harry quickly found out, were terrible at dropping money.

He scourged up and down the street until the sun was nearly at its peak in the sky, eyes fixed on the streets. He couldn't count how many times he bumped into people, and Abrin had nearly been knocked loose many times.

Eventually, Harry had ducked into a side alley between the gardening store and something else. He had quickly loosed Abrin from his neck and shoved him in his school bag, ignoring his annoyed hisses. The little Adder had then poked the very tip of his nose out of the bag, but he was much better hidden.

The drops were few and far in between, and they were more often than not in places he couldn't reach. Harry had acquired, after around an hour or so, 2 pounds. He was _so_ done with this.

Abrin hissed up at him, voice almost being lost as Harry walked away. " _Remember the Foxglove. We will be a hundred, a thousand times more dangerous with this with us than without. We must get it_!"

Harry huffed but continued looking, scanning for the ever-elusive pound. This was ridiculous.

People walked past him on all sides. It was Friday, by his best guess, and those who had something to buy or time to wander were all over the town, popping in and out of stores. Most were taller than him by a head or two, but it wasn't like the hallways in his school. These people were as determined to get anywhere, just casually walking back in forth.

Except for this man.

He was wearing thick, flowing clothes, like a bathrobe made of silk. It snapped and spun behind him as he tore down the street, pushing people out of his way. He was pale and had the brightest shock of red hair Harry had ever seen. He seemed to have a very updated baseball cap shoved on his head, and he had a stack of bills in one hand and a thin piece of wood in the other.

He ran, long legs eating up the space in between him and his destination. And Harry Potter happened to be in his way.

The man hit him like a bludgeoning train. His head smacked against the man's chest and his legs kneed Harry in the stomach. Harry leaped out of the way, trying to avoid the man. His head snapped against the man's hand.

He made his way to safety, joining the parted crowd in staring after the strange man. But he paid them no mind, stilling darting off towards a turn and disappearing from sight. Harry grumbled, as did many of the people around him who were nursing bruises or elbowed sides.

A startling loud hiss from Abrin broke his thoughts. Harry's gaze jerked down, his hands flying to snap the bag closed. But then his attention was captured by something.

A wrinkled bill was lying close to his foot, half-crumpled. It must have been knocked loose from the man's hands and had fallen to the ground. A shining _ten_ was written in the corner.

 _The Foxglove was only seven pounds_.

Harry grinned, and then pounced.

But it seemed the bill had other ideas. In a gust of wind that had been sneaking through the crowds all morning, the bill lifted slightly into the air and soared away from Harry. He bit back a frustrated sound and snapped his legs into attention. He took off after the bill.

It flowed through the people of the street on an invisible current, and Harry had to dodge hands and feet just to keep it in sight. More than one person shouted something at his fleeing back but he still ran after the money.

 _He needed it_.

The wind died suddenly, falling to a sudden stop like it had been doing for the past hour. The bill glided on the last breeze, flying into the space between two stores. Harry took no notice of the shadows thickly cloaking the little alley and tore inside.

The bill was lying close to one wall, perfectly still against the ground. Harry darted the last few steps to it and slammed a foot down on the edge, trapping it even as the other side fluttered slightly in a new breeze. His hand snapped down and he had the money, the money to make him even more powerful in this world.

He tucked it in his schoolbag, not very keen on losing it. He turned around, trying to remember which way the gardening store was. He caught a glimpse of the store sign and started towards it.

Abrin hissed mightily in the bag. " _There is something else here_." His head poked fully out of the bag, tongue flicking up and down. He paused for a second, swiveling his head in every direction before he nudged his head in a certain way.

Harry followed his gesture, moving slowly towards it. Maybe it was a rat of a mouse he could feed to Abrin. His snake had to be dangerous to survive, and killing things with his venom was the perfect way to start learning.

Something shuffled, moving softly. Harry's eyes snapped to it, and he darted forward, intent on grabbing whatever was behind it.

His gaze fell on a thin brown bag. The edges were scuffed and the drawstring top looked almost ravaged. There was another twitch, something inside the bag moving slightly. The bag looked to have been thrown against the wall, sliding to the bottom.

Harry crept closer. Abrin was almost completely poking out, black eyes fixed on the bag and its ever increasing twitching. Leaning down, Harry grabbed the top of the drawstrings and gently, oh-so-gently, pulled them apart.

At first, nothing happened. Then a small pink nose poked its way out.

Harry lunged back, confused. The nose disappeared back inside the bag, and the bag seemed to quiver as if the creature inside was shaking. Harry carefully knelt before the bag, moving his hands closer to the drawstring opening. Slowly, he pried them fully apart.

The bag was pitch black inside, but he could see light shining on the pink nose that had poked out earlier. He reached his hands in, ignoring Abrin's warning hiss. His hands met soft fur.

Harry resisted the urge to draw back but instead, he slowly moved his other hand forward, touching the same fur. He slowly wrapped his hands around the fur and gently pulled forward. His hands emerged from the bag, and with them came a kitten.

It was absolutely tiny, barely much larger than his two fists. It has thin fur the color of the rain clouds, of mist. There were lighter stripes running over its body like a tiger's, brightening to white the closer it grew to its face. Its tail was particularly long and had a strange tuft of fur on the end. Its eyes were closed, its tiny ears large and protruding from its head.

It mewed softly at him, twisting its head to one side. It's little nose twitched before it started to walk forward on unsteady feet. It stumbled slightly to one side, but it finished making its way over to Harry. It brushed against one of his knees before leaning against it, little chest rumbling. It takes Harry a few seconds before realizing the kitten is purring.

" _Abrin_!" He all but shouted, the kitten's head twisting to one side. The snake was avidly watching the cat from his safe spot in the bag. " _What do I do_?"

Abrin sounded just as confused as he knew he was. " _I have no idea. Who do you know? Who can help you_?"

The answer hit Harry like a wave. Who was the one person he knew on this street?

 _James_.

Harry dithered for a moment, watching the kitten lean up against him again, purring louder. He shot a glance at the bag, and then at his school bag.

" _Abrin_ ," his hissed, " _come out_." The snake did so, slithering out onto his open palm. Harry wrapped him around his neck again, the collars flipping up. Abrin nosed his head out of Harry's shirt, his attention focused on the kitten. Harry paused for a few seconds before reaching forward and grabbing the cat around its waist. It let out a soft mew before it stopped struggling, lying limply in Harry's hands. He opened up this cover of his bag, slipping the kitten next to the book and ten pound bill. It shifted slightly before going still. Harry snatched up the bag he had found it in, before standing up.

The bag jostled slightly and Harry reached out his hands to steady it, his eyes snapping up to find the gardening store. It was almost directly across the street. He started moving, striding out of the alley and towards it. He paid no mind to the people around them only to avoid them, keeping his bag still.

The bell dinged pleasantly as he walked in, and Harry made a beeline to the counter. James was still there, lowering the magazine with the red and black berry on it. He smiled at Harry before he frowned as he caught sight of the panicked expression on Harry's face.

"What happened?"

To answer, Harry carefully reached inside his bag and grabbed onto the kitten, pulling it out. Its fur was mussed up from his bag, mewing. He slapped the bag he had found it in next to it, staring up at James with wide, confused eyes.

"I found it in an alley." Harry blinked once, staring back down at the cat. He stretched a hand forward and stroked it behind the ears. "What do I do?"

James sucked in a breath, his eyes wide. He leaned down, his gaze flicking over every angle of the cat. He frowned, reaching an arm forward to touch a spot on its paw. The kitten hissed, ears falling back against its head despite the fact its eyes were still closed.

"Why won't its eyes open?" Harry asked, looking it over.

James ran a hand through his wild black hair. "Um. This is not my department."He thought for a second before looking outside. "There's pet store across the street. Go there, they'll know more than I do. Tell them James sent you."

Harry nodded, confused. He scooped up the cat again, grabbing the bag as a second thought. He slipped the bag into his school bag, keeping the kitten wrapped in his arms. It was then that James started, his eyes flying to Harry's neck. It was also then that Harry realized his collars had fallen down on one side.

"Is that a snake?" James asked quietly, eyes flicking over the part of Abrin exposed to the air. At the sound of the word snake, Abrin untucked his head before behind the collar and poked it out, hissing when he saw James.

"Common Adder. Not terribly dangerous, but a wonderfully useful venom." James muttered underneath his breath before shaking his head. He grinned at Harry, gesturing to Abrin. "What's its name?"

Harry stared rather blankly. "His name is Abrin."

James whistled. "Now _that's_ an impressive poison. Rosary peas?" Harry could only nod confusedly. James grinned at him, but his eyes seemed to be elsewhere.

"Go over to the pet store. They can help you." He gestured to the door, picking up his magazine rather slowly. It was then Harry realized that the cover of the magazine, a red and black berry, was a rosary pea.

James smiled ruefully, flicking the cover down again. He waved at Harry as he left, his mind whirring with the speed of a thousand suns. He glanced at the boy's snake, Abrin, wrapped around his neck when the boy didn't care at all about how the snake was venomous. James stared at the aisle the boy had gone down, with the Foxglove seeds he had looked at before realizing he couldn't afford them. His hand fell to his side, where he could feel the bulky shape of his wallet.

But Harry was already walking out of the gardening store, and he didn't see any of that. The kitten in his hands mewed softly, tail flicking against Harry's upper arm. He shook his head, concentrating. People were crowded in the streets, but not nearly as bad as they had been when the strange bathrobe ran had run through the street.

James had said the pet store was across the street, so that was where he scanned first. His attention snapped to the sign _Pets and Vets_ , and he headed right towards it.

It was a larger store than the gardening one had been, but it still only had one counter. That counter was currently manned by a tall woman with long, red-brown hair. She smiled at Harry and then caught sight of the kitten in his arms.

"Oh!" She exclaimed, gesturing Harry over to her. "Who've you got there?"

"I don't know," Harry answered truthfully. "I found it. Why was it in an alley?" Abrin stirred against his skin, his head lifting slightly so he could hear the woman's words. Harry caught the sorrowful flash through her eyes.

"Poor dear…" She held her hands out, and Harry paused. Did he really want to give something that was his - _he had only found the kitten minutes ago_ \- to a new woman? But he looked at her kind face and handed the furball over.

She placed the kitten on the counter, where its small gray legs shook slightly before straightening. She examined it, before muttering softly to herself. Then she shook her head and looked at Harry.

"She's a girl and is rather healthy. She must have been born very recently because her eyes are still closed. Kittens open their eyes when they are around a week old."

"But why was she is in the alley?" Harry pressed.

The woman signed, and Harry caught a flash of a nametag on her green apron. _Rose_. "She must have been abandoned. Some people, when they get kittens, can't take care of them and they leave them to die."

Harry started, his eyes going wide. The woman hastily spoke again. "But now she'll be well-taken care for. Do you want me to take her to an animal adoption center, or will you?"

Harry paused. Abrin fluttered his tail near Harry's ear, but not making a sound. "Actually, I think I'm going to take care of her."

Rose looked surprised, then happy. "Great! Do you want to buy her some food? I've got some over her I might recommend. She has to eat this for about two weeks until she's a bit more mature, but this bag should last her for that long."

She stood up from the counter, walking around the edge and heading to a wall covered in large bags. She selected a rather small one with a baby brown kitten on the front and offered it to Harry. "It's 9 pounds as of right now."

Harry grinned, looking in his bag. The ten-pound bill was lying right next to his book, and he reached in and pulled it out, along with another one for tax just in case. He put them in her oustretched hands. Rose smiled at him and walked him back to the counter, where the kitten was still standing.

As she rang him up, she asked, "Do you have any ideas for a name yet?"

Harry paused. He definitely would do another poison, she was strong enough to have survived in a bag in an alley. He would have to do a little research. He shook his head.

A loud 'ding' echoed behind him. Harry jumped slightly, whirling around. The door to the store clicked shut, and James was standing there with his wild black hair wind-blown.

"Wind's gotten worse," he said, jerking a thumb to the outside. He grinned at Rose, who simply rolled her eyes but smiled back.

"I've got a present for you," he said to Harry, who cocked his head to one side.

"But we only met today!" He exclaimed, his eyebrows lowering. He had only met James today and he was already trying to give him things!

"I know." James looked down at him, eyes soft. "But it only takes that amount of time to recognize someone with the same love as me."

He held up his arm, covered by a long sleeve shirt. He pulled it back, and it slowly started to reveal a thin black tattoo, a banner with a fancy word written in it.

 _Venenamanic._

Harry's eyes bugged out as he stared at the tattoo. His eyes shot up to James' face, who simply grinned at him. Abrin fully hissed, emerging from his hidden spot on Harry's neck. He heard Rose gasp slightly but didn't react.

"How could you know?" He whispered, one hand reaching up to touch Abrin's scales for comfort.

James raised his eyebrows, looking incredulous. "How could I _not_?" He held up his fingers ticking them off as he spoke. "You've got a venomous snake named after a stronger poison wrapped around your neck. You have a book all about poisonous plants in your bag. Not to mention the fact you came into a gardening store looking for _Foxglove_ with the excuse that it's purple. While I know it's a pretty common plant for gardens, mothers would not send a boy who doesn't look to be ten years old to buy some."

Harry blushed mightily.

He heard Rose chuckle behind him, and she placed a nickel and two pennies on the counter. "That's James for you. I swear, if he offered to become a detective, no one would be able to turn him down."

"So!" James clapped his hands together, grinning wildly. "I've still got to give my present to you." He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small package with a purple flower over the front. The large black words over the top spelled _Foxglove_.

"The seeds!" Harry exclaimed, reaching forward for them. But James held his hand back, eyes searching.

"I know you've probably done some research on them, and you most likely know how to handle yourself with poisonous plants. But poison is not something to play lightly with. I've overcome the most severe urges of venenamania, but that doesn't mean that you have. So, starting this weekend, you are going to come over to my store and I am going to teach you." He said in all seriousness, staring down at Harry.

Harry could only nod. "This weekend?"

James nodded.

Rose interrupted their little stare-off. "Well, you've got to go home now." She frowned before turning to him. "What's your name?"

"Harry." He answered back, turning behind him to pick up the kitten on the counter. She snuggled into his touch, leaning into his chest.

Rose grinned. "Well then, Harry, you better come back to us this weekend."

Harry smiled back. "Of course I will."

He looked at the kitten in his arm. "We will, won't we, Foxglove?"

* * *

 **Yay! Another chapter! How I spoil you…**

 **So Harry's got (maybe) the last of his pets, and he's found someone to help him with his venenamania! And no, before anyone asks, James and Rose are** _ **not**_ **James and Lily. I had already planned on naming one James but Rose just slipped in too easily.**

 **Well, excuse me.**

 **Anyway! Please read and review!**

 **Frost OUT!**


	6. James

Harry came that weekend. And the next, and the next, and the next after that.

James hadn't invited him again after the first, but every Saturday he showed up at the front of his store, fist poised to knock, the glass door would swing open. The small bell would ring cheerfully and James would gesture wildly for him to come in, a thick book perched in his arms. He would greet each of Harry's pets before he would welcome the boy himself.

Abrin, the steadily-growing Adder that he was, stayed wrapped around his neck. He was nearly a meter long now, and Harry's neck bulged out strangely every time he brought the snake. The black zigzag over his back was even more pronounced as his once brown scales took a bit of a gray appearance, something James assured him was completely natural.

Foxglove had shot up like a weed on fertile soil. Legs lengthened and tail grew and body swelled until Harry wasn't sure she was a cat but a lion cub. She was nearly up Harry's knees but still had the rather large paws of a kitten, showing she was still growing. Harry almost feared how big she would grow. Her eyes were now open, revealing large yellow orbs with slitted pupils. But she had quickly developed a personality of her own. She was very playful despite her size and had often taken to pouncing on anything that moved. Harry had bought her a tennis ball that James had duct taped to be more protected, and even then it almost died every time Harry rolled in across the floor of the store.

That was a new development, too. On the second weekend of Harry coming to the store, James had smacked him across the forehead. Harry had emerged, blinking wildly, only to see a sticker implanted on his head that cheerfully read, in sloppy letters, _Hi! I'm Harry!_. Apparently, he was an honorary worker. He made five pounds every weekend, though often he didn't help much with actual customers. But he worked wonders with all manners of sorting plants. His boss, a tall man named Mr. Williams, had been pretty leery of hiring a child under twelve years old to work for him, but James had pulled him out for a quick talk and then Harry had gotten a tiny apron and a sad smile.

Harry was confused but didn't think about it much. He got a job, and that was all that was important.

The first time he had gone over on the weekend, he had been scared out of his socks. Going home was frightening in itself, terrified that Uncle Vernon could sense he hadn't gone to school. But it seemed his relatives were _very_ happy pretending he didn't exist.

Dudley was kept from him at all times, and the main form of contact with Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia was in the form of dagger coated glares and tight shoulders. He was still forced to cook, which he was still quite good at. But he had to take the first bite of Dudley's food as if he had poisoned it. He took a lot of pleasure it taking the tastiest, largest bites he could, and his Uncle didn't do anything but glare furiously.

But then he had gone to his cupboard and slept there for the night, and that was the only time he had felt safe enough to examine his pets.

Foxglove, the tiny, blind kitten she was, had been tucked into his shirt. He had tied it tight in the back so she wouldn't slip down the bottom, and so she had been pressed up against his chest, soft fur sliding over his skin. He had nearly choked several times when she moved, the tickling almost too much.

Abrin was tied around his neck like normal. He was good at being silent, though Foxglove had to be hurriedly shushed several times. Though when Harry was the only one in the room, he had plenty of snarky comments to whisper in Harry's ear.

Harry had wonder, idly, while in his cupboard what the Dursley's would think of him sneaking two different animals into their house, especially when one of them was poisonous. He had delegated not to think of it.

The next morning he had woken up, his cupboard already unlatched. Uncle Vernon had done that for the past years, unlocking it while he was asleep so he could leave early in the morning and take his freakiness away. Harry had no intentions of disobeying.

After all, that was the first weekend James had invented him over to the plant store. It had been almost ridiculously easy to grab two pieces of bread from the pantry, and he had even, at Abrin's urgings, taken them from Dudley's special, nice bread. It had been slipped into his school bag and then he had taken off, heart fluttering with the excitement of disobeying his relatives.

Running down the streets to the market had been just as easy as taking food. There were barely any people up, no strangers with wild clothes and a shock of red hair bumping into him. Foxglove tucked neatly into his shirt and Abrin wrapped around his throat, he had taken off down the street and towards the store.

He had wrenched open the door, the bell announcing his arrival better than a fanfare of trumpets. Harry's bright green eyes had instantly shot towards James' blue ones, who grinned widely at him and dropped a magazine on the table.

It was the magazine that had started everything.

James had led Harry over to it, flipping it over so the cover was bared to the world. _Venena News!_

"We're like a secret society," James had explained. He flicked the pages over as he spoke, baring a new plant or add or animal to Harry's eyes every sentence. Sometimes there were pages and pages of just words or a new plant on every other one.

James grinned self-deprecatingly. "It's probably not a good idea, but this magazine unites us. All of the venenamaniacs in the world. If you need any sort of poison or venom, there's guy in here that'll get it for you." He flipped to the back of the paper, showing a long list of names two pages long. Each one had a phone number and email next to it, along with a short paragraph of what they could supply.

 _Jared Walter. I deal in lesser known poisons and dabble in venoms. Need anything rare from Australia and I can get it._

 _Amanda McGiker. Anything that comes from an animal, I can find. More distant missions take longer but I always deliver._

 _David Sayn. I have access to any mild poisons that don't kill. For milder jobs, I have you covered._

On and on, the lists went. There didn't seem to be an end to them. Harry flipped through the names with fascination throughout his faces, eyes flicking over the names to try and find one he could memorize. But James seemed to recognize the look and flicked the cover over the names.

"No contacting them yet," he warned. "Leave that to me if you need anything."

James pointed to the cover, and Harry understood he was pointing to the names. "Those are Finders," he explained.

"They are the ones who can find poisons and venoms for people. Because venenamania can make urges for a certain plant, like hemlock, even if the person doesn't even know what the poison is. It's very important to have someone who can help you get that poison before the urge overtakes you."

James never did talk about what happened when urges over people.

He flipped the cover open, coming to a stop a few pages after the cover. There were hundreds of them, just like the Finders, but these had, instead of having lists of poisons they could find, they had amounts of time next to them. James' finger slid down the page until it landed on a certain point. Harry peered at it, curiosity peeked.

 _James Lakeson. 2 - 3 weeks._

"I'm a Keeper," James said easily, flipping the book shut before Harry could get too good of a look at it.

"It isn't always acceptable to be a venenamaniac, and sometimes we have to hide our poisons so people can't find them. So Keepers, like me, we can hide poisons for people for certain amounts of time. I'm particularly good at it." James grinned.

Harry was _dead_ curious about the Finders and Keepers, and asked questions constantly. James answered the best he could - no, other people don't really know about this. It's our little secret, I guess - or - there's some of us in every continent. Maybe not Antarctica but we venenamaniacs are everywhere. We're like weeds ourselves - and tried to slow Harry's barrage of curiosity. It didn't work but it helped.

James understood him. Understood the obsessive need to collect poisons, understood his protectiveness over all of his pets, understood things that even Harry didn't. He patiently taught Harry how to handle everything plants with a careful, steady hand, and which to avoid with his bare hands but collect with gloves.

Rose popped by whenever her shift ended, at 3 every Saturday and 4 on Sunday. She would check over Foxglove, exclaiming happily when her eyes opened on the second weekend. She had cooed over the large cat, ignoring James' grumbles in the background with a practiced ease. She had helped Harry buy the right food out of her store with the pounds he had, and sometimes gave him discounts when he was low on money but still needed food.

She was just as stumped at Foxglove's breed as Harry was. He had had her look up the big cat breeds but Foxglove didn't fit any of them; Rose had decided to call her a cat-mutt and leave it at that. She cared very deeply for all of his pets, and for that he was grateful.

But James was always the person for Harry, and they fit together well. James took Harry under his wing before Harry had even known what had happened. He had taken Harry to the back of the store, where there were several flower boxes the store grew for anyone wanting bouquets.

James had, of course, slipped in a few more dangerous seeds. This was his little secret, something he could take care of when he didn't have a garden at his own house. He and Harry cared for them as well as they could, and the little plants flourished. Harry got, after a while, a handful of daffodil bulbs to plant around at his house. They were apparently very dangerous, but were also great at hiding because what gardener expected bright yellow flowers to almost kill them?

Harry loved every second of it.

The daffodils had scored him some points with Aunt Petunia, as well. He had brought them home that Saturday night and offered them meekly up at her. He didn't think he would plant them in his little forest garden; it wouldn't be safe, as people could wander back because they saw the bright yellow blossoms.

Aunt Petunia had stared at him, lips thin, before stabbing one hand at the garden. She had said he could plant them as long as they didn't overpower her hyacinths. Harry had dove so deeply into finding the best areas for them and looking them up in his little book that he didn't notice Aunt Petunia staring at him over the window, the very edge of her lips tweaking up.

But his personal garden in the dark of the forest. Oh, how Harry cared for each bloom like it was his own child. The stinging nettle had nearly overgrown an entire third of the clearing, and Harry was becoming very proficient at threading himself by the prickly stalks. The foxglove was rather docile in its own little corner, growing at a steady rate with its little trumpet-shaped blooms. But on the farthest side stood his newest achievement; nightshade.

Harry remembered the first time the venenamania had truly struck him.

He had been waving goodbye to James after a nice day of learning about how dangerous hemlock was when suddenly his eyes narrowed in on a small seed packet behind the man. It was so small he couldn't even see the picture on the front, let alone read it, but something in his chest pulled him toward it until it snapped.

James had put up his magazine, a large green stalk on the front, and Harry had snuck under his view over to the seeds. Then, with stealth he had never had before in his life, he had unhooked a pack of seeds and snuck back out the door. His hand had even reached up to silence the bell.

He had run all the way back, his hands clutching the seed pack and eyes pointed forward. Abrin had been hissing worries and confusions up at him but Harry was already too far gone. He had darted all the way to his forest garden and dropped to his knees, digging out the seeds and planting them unevenly in the ground. It was only after they were covered with dirt that Harry snapped back.

He had stared in horror at the ripped seed pack in his hands and the fresh mounds on the ground. Then he had turned right around and ran all the way back to the garden store. He had slammed his way through the front door and collapsed on the ground at James' feet.

The man had stopped, stunned, but when Harry had managed to choke out a few feeble sentences and point to where the seeds had been James seemed to understand. He got Harry to his feet, pulling him over to a rickety chair and helping him to sit down.

He talked to Harry, keeping him calm after his first urge. He said how everything was fine, how he had the poison now. No one could take it away. And slowly, Harry came back to himself with a new understanding of venenamania.

But still, James invited him back the next day and showed him how to care for nightshade, how to work it. And Harry cared for his new plant that was all _his_ and _no one_ could take it from him.

He leaned his back up against one of the trees in his clearing, the bark prickling through his shirt. He dropped the book on his lap, the rather worn pages flicking open to a random spot.

Harry thought idly that he'd have to return it eventually, but was almost positive that his venenamania considered this 'his' and there wouldn't be many a force that could take it from him.

Foxglove curled up against his side, her soft fur pressing against his side. Harry swore she was growing even as he looked at her, but she just simply purred and closed her bright yellow eyes. He grinned at her and stroked behind her ears.

Abrin grumbled something like favoritism at him, and Harry laughed and picked the snake up with both hands. Abrin was thicker and heavier, and Harry could feel the slight touch of muscles on his shoulders and arms from carrying the Adder around for a good part of the day.

He flicked the book to a random spot and settled down to read. The sun glinted off all of the poisonous plants and pets beside him.

* * *

James was not an idiot.

Oh, how Rose would tease him on that, but they both knew that James had a mind as sharp as a knife. He could apply it to problems or people alike and come up with answers, and he was more often than not right. He prided himself on it.

Harry had been a fun puzzle to put together.

He was a venenamaniac, there was no real doubt about it. He had an unquenchable urge for poisons and a _very_ protective nature over anything he declared as 'his'.

James still remembered the first time he had picked up the boy's snake, Abrin. Harry's bright green eyes had grown fierce, seeming to burn their way through his soul. His face had been deadset cold but still, the rage and fury flared behind Harry's eyes.

James worried about how he would be able to help Harry control that part of him.

His own venenamania had been hard enough to force some power over. He had been diagnosed very quickly after his mother caught him breaking into a nearby store that had the word _poison_ written in the very back. His mum, bless her soul, had taken him immediately to a doctor and asked what was wrong. He, in all of his three-year-old glory, had immediately zeroed in on the doctor's medicines and tried to get to them. He hadn't given the man his shot back, instead clutching it close to his chest and glaring up through his giant blue eyes.

The man had frowned, before going over to his computer and searching something in. And then he had come back with a single word on his tongue.

 _Venenamania._

James hadn't had anyone growing up. It was only him and his mother who, while she tried, didn't understand the power or strength or meaning of the urges he had. James had practically secluded himself before he, as though by magic, found himself in front of a newspaper store.

He had seen the title _Venena News!_ , and his entire life had changed.

Now he had contacts whenever he had urges, and people he could pay to supply him with dangerous plants. He had put down his name as a Keeper on his third day of getting the magazine and had had to hide two batches so far.

It was the best fun he had ever had.

So that was why he was helping Harry. A fellow, young venenamaniac who obviously didn't have any idea of what his disease meant but was already collecting. His first urge had him steal from underneath another venenamaniac's nose; _that_ was dedication.

Ratty clothes and small lunches. James hadn't missed that, either; a distinct lack of family supporting him and the quietness that seemed to plague his small form. There was the clear surprise when James had given him the Foxglove seeds and his tenderness when caring for his animals.

James had his suspicions about Harry's home life, but he wasn't going to be the person to say it.

He idly tapped his finger on the counter, tired eyes flicking over the front door. It was getting late but his shift was for another two hours, and he rather desperately wished someone would come in just so he wouldn't be bored.

Once again, his gaze shot to the nightshade seeds. He loved the plant, had it very close to his desk for a reason. That had been his first steal as a venenamaniac, the first thing he had ever tried to care for. He had been subjected to its poisons before on a particularly bad urge, and he had hated himself for it.

But he still loved that plant, and James knew he was _very_ protective over it.

And Harry had stolen it right off the shelf.

If the boy survived his venenamania…

He'd be the best damn Finder this world had ever seen.

* * *

 **Hey! So like, I how I was supposed to update sooner, but like…**

 ***inserts great excuse***

 **But anyway, I hope you guys realize how much this story has changed from my outline. I didn't have a Rose, James was just a background character who gave seeds to Harry as a nice person (I didn't plan for him to become a venenamaniac in the** _ **slightest**_ **) and this chapter didn't even exist. I was planning on going straight to the zoo scene but today, this popped into my head and forced my fingers to write.**

 **But hey! Now you understand a bit more about venenamania and you get a glimpse into Harry's life. Next chapter will be a little bit more exciting but I still hope you enjoy!**

 **Please read and review!**

 **Frost OUT!**


	7. Birthdays and a Letter

Harry realized he probably should have realized it was Dudley's birthday. It was a bright Saturday morning and Harry had woken up with the clear intention of heading out to _Pots, Plants, and Other Important Things_. James had promised him that they would learn a bit about oleander, the most poisonous plant in the known world.

As you could probably guess, Harry had been beyond excited for today.

But instead Aunt Petunia had pounded mercilessly on his cupboard, startling him awake. He normally woke up earlier than any of them, so at first, he didn't understand what was going on. But when the wooden door practically snapped off its hinges with the force his Aunt was putting behind it, he realized pretty quickly.

"Boy! Get up!" She snapped out, voice high but still angry. He could hear her sharp tones practically dripping with scorn. Her feet cast shadows in the crack underneath his cupboard door, but they slowly moved off to one side. Then her hand was slamming onto the door again, sending a downpour of dust falling and settling on his shoulders.

Harry Potter, ten-year-old extraordinaire, growled visibly and smacked a hand against the wood of his cupboard door.

"I'm _up_!" He cried. The pounding paused, Aunt Petunia stopping her assault. He heard her voice slip underneath the door and reach his ears.

"Well then, get up. You are going to make my Dudders a fancy birthday breakfast." She paused as if thinking. "And no _funny_ business," she added, voice dropping into deadly serious tones.

Harry groaned, eyes squeezing shut and falling onto his chest.

 _Dudley's birthday. Of course_.

"Okay, Aunt Petunia," he said, sounding very similar to a man's whose hopes and dreams had all just been crushed.

Harry turned to one side, examining the pile of clothes there. He had done laundry for his relatives only a few days ago and so had mostly clean clothes. He grabbed a random pair, shirt, and trousers, and started to pull them on.

Two bright yellow eyes blinked sleepily up at him. Their slitted pupils were stretched wide in this dark room, and they almost looked human. Harry grinned at their owner, who stretched lazily and picked herself out of the pile of blankets she had made her bed. Her long gray fur striped with white glimmered in the soft light from under the door, and she looked nearly at home in the dark cupboard.

Harry finished tying the trousers' strings together as tight as he could. He wasn't nearly as _wide_ as Dudley and making anything that was once his fit was nearly impossible. But soon they were securely on and he started towards the door, crawling on his hands and knees.

Foxglove made a move to follow him, her strange tail with a tuft of white fur on the end swishing against his thighs.

"No, Fox." He gently put a hand in front of her, and she blinked up at him. "Not today. We'll head out tomorrow."

The cat seemed to frown before she crept back to her little corner of the room, settling back on the still-warm pile of blankets. A pair of black eyes shot open and their owner hissed angrily at the cat.

" _Shush, Abrin,_ " Harry whispered to him, voice slipping into adder-talk, as he had taken to calling it. He wondered whether he should have called it snake-talk, in case he was able to talk to other snakes, but it was too late to change it, by his thought.

The snake flicked a tongue back out at him, slipping his tail closer to his body from where it had been stepped on by Fox. He settled back in his little space, eyes slipping closed.

Harry grinned at his pets and slowly pushed the door open. The light nearly scalded his eyes and he blinked furiously, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. They burned slightly until the pain went away, and he was able to safely get out of the cupboard and stand.

He slowly shut the door, making sure to leave the vents open. He had hidden large amounts of meat and food inside the cupboard so his pets could eat during the school days when they got too big for him to take them with him. Abrin had simply gotten too big and bulky to be secretly wrapped around his neck and Fox was _well_ past the stage where she could fit in Harry's shirt.

Harry stood up, his back sounding like a gunshot as he straightened. He winced before stretching mightily, arms reaching wildly in either direction. Then he turned on his heel and started towards the kitchen, fingers brushing against pure gray walls along his way. The house had been newly painted, as apparently gray was the new fad over the town, if James was to be trusted.

Oh, how Harry wished to go to James instead of working for the Dursleys'. Flipping over pancakes and hearing the crackle of frying bacon was well below his level now, but it seemed that that was what Dudley loved the best. Harry did enjoy cooking, if for himself and his animals. Meat was fun to cook because he had to try and make it red enough for Fox to enjoy but cooked enough for her not to get sick in her kitten stages. He had been able to cover it up by cooking lots of meaty foods, which prompted the Dursleys to buy more meat for him to cook, and he was quickly growing good at sneaking away slivers and chunks.

He stumbled out into the kitchen, tripping over a bright blue box. Harry turned his gaze downward, confusion etched deeply into his face. It was large, almost up to his calf, and covered in blue wrapping paper and a large white bow. He picked it up, feeling a heavy weight drag at his fingers. His birthday wasn't until July 31st.

"Boy!" Aunt Petunia barked. Harry jumped, almost dropping the present. His head snapped up and he looked across the carnage that had happened over his kitchen.

Presents, of every size and shape, were covering every square inch of the table, of the floor, of the counter; there was hardly a glance of the gray speckled granite. Aunt Petunia was standing in the middle of it, hands stiff on her hips.

"Put that back!" She gestured frustratedly towards the ground, and Harry knelt, confused. He placed it on the ground where it had found it, adjusting the bow so it pointed upward. He stood up again, Aunt Petunia's eyes following every moment he took.

"Go cook." Her attention moved back to the presents and she was shifting some of them, stacking others on top of others so that every present had a little ring of space around it. Harry swore he even saw her try to put on on top of the telly but it wouldn't fit.

Shaking his head, Harry headed towards the kitchen, which had been left mostly untouched. He pulled open the first cupboard, fingers touching and grabbing baking soda, flour, and others until he was back in his groove.

Hands flew and feet danced as he whirled around the kitchen. Spots or splatters were swiped away with a flick of a wrist and a washcloth and all of the ingredients were poured with careful precision into a large bowl in the center. A dash and the stove was cranked up to medium, two large frying pans spread over its top.

He fell into a rhythm in the kitchen. Harry knew it had taken many, many years but he could cook pancakes and bacon with one hand tied behind his back. Other foods were _definitely_ more trial and error but after cooking it for every breakfast he had to cook for and some dinners as well, he could recognize whether a piece of bacon would burn by the sound of its pop and how long, exactly, it took to brown a pancake based on its size.

He idly wondered whether he should join one of the cooking shows his Aunt was so fond of watching.

In a very short amount of time, he had three large plates out and set on the table, steaming platters of pancakes and bacon alongside them. Forks and knives were thrown out with a careful toss and orange juice splashed down into three different mugs.

Harry crept towards one corner, munching on a single piece of bacon and a pancake gripped in his hand. He inched closer to his cupboard, wanting to go there before the monster of a cousin exploded into his presents.

He was a bit too late.

There was a _thud_ and then a _thump_ and then Dudley Dursley popped out of the hallway, already bending down. His hands snatched onto the blue present and he was lifting it up to his head, shaking it ruthlessly.

Uncle Vernon emerged from behind him, one large arm clapping him on the shoulders. "Good lad!" He roared to no one in particular, attention fixed on Dudley. "Let's eat first before opening them all up."

Dudley's eyes snapped over to the table where his plate of steaming pancakes and bacon waited for him. He just about dropped his present, tossing it almost carelessly over to one side. Aunt Petunia's eyes followed it and she winced when there was a slight crash when it hit the edge of the couch.

Dudley waddled over to the table, his pajamas not too tight on his waist. He plopped himself down at the table, not wait nary a second before his face was crammed as far forward as possible, fork shoveling pancakes and bacon in at the same time.

Harry shoved the last of his pancake inside his mouth. He whipped his lips with the back of his hand and started toward the hallway, intent on escaping. Maybe he didn't have to do anything today. Maybe they would leave.

Uncle Vernon stopped him with a tight hand on the back of his shirt. Harry's eyes widened and he quickly backtracked, heading towards the towering man. Green eyes met blue ones and Harry blinked once.

"You are going to disappear for the next few hours," Uncle Vernon commanded, voice dead serious and quiet so Dudley wouldn't hear. "You will not bother anyone."

Harry could only nod, eyes still wide but also filled with excitement. His nodding picked up speed.

"We will go the zoo. If anything is even _moved_ out of position, you will hang." Uncle Vernon promised, a single meaty hand held in front of him. Harry nodded faster, and his Uncle released the back of his shirt.

Harry stood there for a second before tearing off behind the man. He practically dove into his cupboard, grabbing at his school bag.

" _Come on_ ," he hissed at Abrin. The snake raised a sleepy head but Harry simply grabbed him around the middle, hauling him into the bag. Fox stood and stretched, padding her way over to Harry.

"Backdoor," he whispered. The cat nodded, shaking herself and sending a virtual wave of cat hair flying everywhere. She slipped past him and tore down the hallway, just a stream of gray against the gray walls.

Harry stood back up, bag secured over his shoulders. He shot a glance down the hallway but no one seemed to have seen Fox, and he grinned wildly.

He ran after his cat, pushing open the gardening back door. He slipped outside, light smacking against his shoulders.

Maybe he _would_ get to learn about oleander today.

* * *

Harry hated Sundays.

It was the one day that he had to stay and cook breakfast for his family, as they would all go to something called 'church' and he would be left behind, and only _then_ could he break away to James. He particularly hated being late after last week, with the whole Dudley's birthday incident. James had been considerate but they hadn't had as long as they normally did.

He flipped the last of the pancakes, the golden brown side winking up at him. He glared back. A few seconds wait of crackling and he was sliding the last of what he had to cook onto the plate, switching the stove off in a fluid motion. He carefully brought the plate over to the table, it's heavy surface balancing on both hands. He had to deliver them hot so Dudley would like them.

The boy in question grinned evilly up at him, and Harry sensed mischief in his eyes. He quickly slammed the plate down on the table before Dudley could off balance it, sending a single glass rattling and almost falling over.

Dudley frowned, eyebrows drawing closed. Harry would have almost felt sorry for him if he wasn't trying to get him in trouble. He carefully picked his way over to the counter and scooped up the tray of bacon, the still-sizzling plate of goodness gliding easily over to the table. He laid it a bit farther away from Dudley to avoid anything happening.

He stole his one piece of both from off the counter where he had put them, starting to nibble furiously. He wanted to go over to James. Yesterday had been _fun_ ; James had shown him a new plant he was keeping in the plant boxes, one that had poisonous spines. He didn't remember what is was called but he felt attracted to it, and that meant that his venenamania was acting up, and he needed to get to it before an urge happened.

He ate his pancake first, stuffing it into his mouth even as he moved towards his cupboard. The bacon went down just as quickly, the flavor nearly forgotten as he pulled open the door.

Fox streaked out easily, Harry having taught her how to open the back door using her impressive shoulder strength. It swung outward and since his Aunt never latched it as it would make her seem 'paranoid' and that wasn't 'perfect', she could escape easily.

Abrin was already in the school bag and Harry picked it up, grunting slightly at the weight. He swung it over his shoulders, it's rather-worn appearance familiar. He headed toward the front door so his relatives wouldn't think he was lurking around the house or something, and it was easier when they just thought he was at the park.

His garden was thriving. He had, for the first time, brought James back to it, and the man had whistled in appreciation and helped him care for it. Using big pliers they had pruned back the stinging nettle, and James had cut him off several little springs he could plant in other places if he wanted to. The Foxglove was doing perfectly fine but James suggested that Harry find some way to water it in the drought he had heard was coming. The nightshade was doing fine but James had picked out an entire plant and thrown it away, saying it was choking the rest.

Harry had dutifully copied everything to memory, noting how James seemed to move around the plants like he was one of them. He was so careful, avoiding taking anything with him. He knew of a venenamaniacs - and Harry's, in particular - possessiveness of their poisons. He had thrown the extra stinging nettles and nightshade off to the side where Harry could easily reclaim them and where Harry could keep an eye on them.

James was a man in his element, and Harry was blessed to learn underneath him.

His head shook itself and his hand was on the front door, the handle cool under his touch. He started to turn it when there was a sudden clack blow him. He turned his gaze downward and saw three letters lying on the mat.

He knelt and picked them up, idly scanning through each. One to Aunt Marge - he shuddered at the thought of the woman - a postcard or something, and a thick envelope in rough paper. It was scratchy to his touch, and he wasn't that sure he liked it.

"Get the mail, boy!" Uncle Vernon shouted, his voice slightly muffled by the unmistakeable sound of pancakes and bacon in his mouth. Harry's lips twitched down is disgust. He heard the soft tone of Aunt Petunia telling her husband to be quiet and almost grinned. He knew Dudley was just as bad but _he_ didn't get any corrections to his behavior.

That was how it went, he guessed. Dudley was Aunt Petunia's baby, her perfect little man; the one she could raise to be just like her in every way. Not like Uncle Vernon, who she could try to fix but already had a mind of his own. It would be almost like brainwashing.

He flipped the envelope over from the strange wax seal. It had been real wax, a dark maroon with four different animals stamped into it. He didn't care enough to check what they were, but he had thought one looked rather like a snake.

But when he saw the words written on the front in spidery, emerald green print, his matching eyes flew wide and his mouth dropped open.

 _Mr. H Potter_

 _The Cupboard Under the Stairs_

 _4 Privet Drive_

 _Little Whinging, Surrey_

Harry was beyond stunned. He heard a confused meow from the other side of the door, obviously Fox wondering why he was taking so long. But the paper was clenched in knuckle-white hands that didn't seem like they would let go.

 _The cupboard under the stairs_.

How could they _know_? Were they spying on him?

What was going on?

"Mail, boy!" Uncle Vernon barked, and Harry's body kicked back into gear. The other two letters dropped from stuff hands onto the mat and his arm forced the door open, letting a blast of wind hit his face. His legs sprang into action, forcing him forward, forward. He only had one thought on his mind.

 _James._

* * *

 **My hands are stiff, I have to go to bed half an hour ago, and my brain hurts.**

 **But I did it. Two chapters in two days, and the last one in under four hours.**

 **You guys are** _ **so**_ **ridiculously lucky. I don't think you understand.**

 **Ah well.**

 **Also, a thousand people read my story today! You don't know how happy that makes me!**

 **(But seriously, less than ten reviews? That's wrong.)**

 **I hope you enjoy!**

 **Please read and review to fix my broken and bleeding hands!**

 **Frost OUT!**


	8. Magic

**IMPORTANT AN AT BOTTOM**

* * *

Feet pounding on the ground, he tore toward downtown. His fingers were so tightly clenching the letter he feared it might snap but that was in the farthest corner of his mind.

 _The cupboard under the stairs_.

That was _his_ and how could anyone know about it? Him living under the cupboard wasn't common knowledge; far from it. Only his relatives knew about it, and they were the ones that had shoved him into it. Harry was beyond scared and nervous.

Fox darted along beside him, her enormous paws slamming into the dirt and ripping up grass underneath them. She didn't pause or halt, instead matching his crazy pace to James. And if anyone looked at the monster of a cat next to him, no one mentioned it or was able to, as Harry was moving too fast.

Abrin could hardly move, jerked and thrown around inside of the school bag bouncing on Harry's back. There were more than a few disgruntled hisses from that area but Harry did not pay attention to them.

 _James_.

He had to find the man. He would know what was going on.

The glass door came into view, the small silver bell twinkling in the light. Harry threw his shoulder against it.

It slammed open, banging into the other wall. The bell sounded like a gunshot, sharp and bright in Harry's panic. He swiveled his head wildly, searching for the familiar tall man with tousled black hair and burning blue eyes.

He wasn't there.

Harry's legs slammed against the ground and he was off, screaming towards the back of the store. There was the small door that led to the back gardens, and Harry put his hands out in front of him and smacked his palms against the wood. The door creaked on its hinges and burst open.

The small garden, the several long boxes of flowers. There was James, bent over a garden with a plier in one hand and a large red bloom in the other. His head jerked up at the sound, eyes wide. A woman stood there, in a neat blue dress and several other flowers in her hand. She looked surprised at the sight of Harry, almost dropping her bouquet.

"Letter!" Harry gasped out, his chest feeling too tight and too full at the same time.

 _Urge._

Cursing his venenamania inside his head, he simply extended his arm and let James see the crumpled paper tight in his grip.

James walked forward, idly dropping the pliers on the ground. He didn't reach out for the letter, simply reading what was on it. His eyes widened considerably, the blue chased out by his pupils growing larger. His gaze snapped up to Harry's level, before he truly caught sight of Harry's pale and shaking face and the flickering emotions behind his eyes.

" _Damn_ ," James swore, head jerking down in an angry motion. His gaze flew back up to Harry's eyes again. Without even twitching from his position, he said, "Ma'am, please take the flowers. You can have them."

The woman did not move, instead staring curiously at Harry's panicked face. "Is he your son?" She asked, stepping closer.

Harry nearly choked.

"No. Brother." James snapped out, waving a hand behind him. "Please Ma'am, just take the flowers. I need to take care of him."

The woman nodded, gripping the flowers tightly in her hand. She stepped over the dropped pliers, high heels clicking on the ground. She opened the door and stepped out, disappearing from view.

James' reaction was instant. He shot his hands up to Harry's face, clasping them on either side of his face. He tilted Harry's head from side to side, examining his eyes.

"Haven't taken anything," James muttered to himself, voice dead serious. His grip snapped onto Harry's hands, holding them up to the light, letter still gripped tightly in his fist.

"You haven't been stung or anything." James' face furrowed in confusion. He looked around, seeing Fox hovering nervously by his side. Abrin's head poked up from the bag, spitting out confused hisses. "Your pets haven't been hurt."

"What's gotten you in an urge?" He whispered, twisting Harry's head in every direction. His gaze darted over to the letter, clenched tightly. He carefully unfolding it out, still in Harry's grip, and read it over. His eyes widened in shock and his head raised to meet Harry's.

Then he started cursing.

He released Harry, a hand flying up to dart through his hair. Harry just stood there, feeling a desperate trembling build up in his chest.

"How are you _so damn protective_ that you go into an urge when someone knows where you sleep?" James nearly shouted, fingers clenching and unclenching. In a sudden burst of motion, he was kneeling down in front of Harry again. His eyes snapped against Harry's and he started talking, speaking in low, soft tones.

" _You're safe_."

" _No one knows where you are_."

" _Everything that is yours is hidden_."

It took James nearly an hour to calm Harry down. His heart rate was still shooting high, but the panic and protectiveness seemed to bleed from his body. He had collapsed on his knees, hands wrapping tightly around Fox's neck. The cat simply leaned into his touch, purring so hard her chest vibrated.

James took a deep gulp of water, his throat scratchy and burning after talking nearly constantly. Harry was just sitting down, arms on his pets. His emerald green eyes were closed and his chest was still taking in too shallow breaths, but he was better now.

"Okay." James sat cross-legged in front of Harry, who opened his eyes and looked up at him. He still had one arm around Fox's neck, who sat down, her head nearly on the same level as Harry's. Abrin had slithered out of the bag and up Harry's arm, settling over his shoulders. Harry looked every part the impressive venenamaniac.

"What's the letter?" He asked, keeping his voice still and even.

Harry sucked in a deep breath, a normal flush returning to his cheeks. His shoulders seemed pop back into a relaxed position, his knuckles cracking as he loosened his grip. "I don't know. It just appeared on my doormat. How could they know I sleep under the stairs?" His voice was still desperate despite his outwardly calm appearance.

"Under the-" James sucked in a deep breath, threading a hand through his hair. It stuck up in wild points and twirls that looked that an army of cows had licked him last night. His fingers flexed against his palms, tapping out a cold beat on his hand.

James shook his head. "Under the stairs. Okay then." His attention snapped back to Harry. "I don't know how they found where you sleep. Maybe they'll tell you inside."

Harry blushed mightily.

"You forget to open it?" James teased, the gentle prodding bringing even more color to Harry's cheeks. Fox seemed to visibly sag against his side, her fur falling against her side. The cat closed her eyes, the white tuft of fur on her tail brushing against Harry's chest. For a cat to be able to sense her owner's emotions.

He dearly wished Rose would just find her breed already. The cat, named after a deadly poison, unnerved him.

Harry carefully slid his finger underneath the flap, breaking the red wax seal. James eyed it curiously but didn't ask. Out came two sheets of parchment, not paper. They had the same scratchy, rough surface as the envelope, and by Harry's face, he didn't like it.

He dropped the envelope on the ground, easily putting it in between his legs. James nearly smirked and groaned at the boy. His possessiveness was going to be the death of him. Curiosity brimming up in him, he flapped his hands at Harry to get him to read faster.

Harry started to read what the letter said out loud, voice a bit scratchy. He coughed, blushed and started again.

" _HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

 _Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

 _(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf Warlock,_

 _Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

 _Dear Mr. H Potter,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

 _Term begins on September 1st. We await your owl by no later than July 31st._

 _Yours Sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall_

 _Deputy Headmistress_

James and Harry could only stare in horrified shock at the letter. Parchment crumpled beneath Harry's tight fingers but already the words seemed imprinted on their minds, stained there like paint on a white wall.

James shook his head violently, rereading over the paper over Harry's shoulders. The words were inked with a careful script, each of the letters the same size. The parchment was rough but each of the lines were perfectly even.

The words hit him like a literal wall.

 _Wizardry_.

Harry didn't know what to think. A letter delivered to his door with where he slept written across the front. Then he opened it up and read words like _wizard, warlock, witchcraft_.

What was going on?

Foxglove pressed into his side as if sensing his inner thoughts. He idly reached a hand out, scratching her in between her ears. She purred happily, the sound more like a lion than a cat.

"Harry?" That was James, his voice soft but laced through with shock and surprise, and a sprinkling hint of disbelief. "Could this be real? Can you do magic?"

"Well-" And Harry had every intention of saying no, of denying that this freakiness could be applied to him. It was _wrong_ and magic was _wrong_ and this letter was _wrong_ but then he remembered what he could do.

More specifically, what he could _say_.

Abrin was still slung over his shoulders, weight heavy and pressing. There wasn't any sounds coming from him, but when Harry rolled his arms the great snake twitched, raising a head to press against Harry's ear.

" _Yes_?" He hissed, voice soft in the manner they had always done to hide the fact from James.

"I can talk to snakes," Harry admitted eventually. "It's called adder-talk."

James' eyes squeezed shut and his fist trembled. He took in a deep, shuddering breath, the air hissing out from his teeth in a manner all too similar to how Abrin talked.

"Snakes." James let out a weak laugh. "Well, that explains how you're such good friends with him." He gestured to Abrin, his fingers shaking slightly. His shoulders heaved and suddenly Harry realized he was laughing, deep throated bellows that sounded like he had years bottled up inside of him.

Abrin cocked his head to one side, staring at him. He hissed out a slight question.

"What'd he say?" James asked, eyes still squeezed shut.

Harry blushed, although the man couldn't see him. "He asked whether you were losing your mind."

James chuckled again, this time sounding more realistic than the one he had done before.

"Well then." He finally opened his bright blue eyes, bringing them up to meet Harry's. "I can see why you had kept this a secret from me. I would have declared you crazy." His eyes closed again.

Harry stiffened slightly, but James wasn't done.

"So now I'm going to send you off to this crazy school that teaches magic."

Harry cocked his head to one side. "You're going to send me off?"

James popped open one eye and stared at him. "My venenamania has completely declared you as mind, kid. I think it'd take a lot more than your family banning you coming here to pull us apart. That's one problem with this disorder; it claims humans as well."

Harry blinked. He remembered how he had always come to the store, even when he had been sick or when he had had to sneak away from his Aunt and Uncle. How he got furious when he wasn't allowed to go.

"If it helps," Harry offered, "I think I've claimed you as well."

James grinned at him. "I think I recognized that." His hand clapped Harry on the shoulder, falling easily next to Abrin. The snake hissed at him before settling back on his part of Harry's back. James laughed.

The tall man peered curiously at the letter again, mouthing _Hogwarts_. "Sounds like a pig disease."

Harry let out a surprised laugh, the tension melting from his shoulders. "It does!" He exclaimed, his mind instantly drawing up a picture of what the school mascot would be. He collapsed in helpless laughter.

James joined him. The man picked the letter from Harry's hands and Harry found that _it didn't matter_ , because this man was _his_ and he was allowed to touch what was also _his_. Idly, Harry wondered whether he should be frightened of claiming a person old enough to be his father but that also _didn't matter_.

He was _his_.

James held the letter up, letting the rising rays of the sun glint off of it. "Albus Dumbledore. Minerva McGonagall. What kind of parents did they have?"

Harry grinned at him.

"Oh, your last name is Potter," James exclaimed, head tilting curiously to one side. "Can't believe I never asked you that. You've been coming here for what, two years?"

Harry nodded in confirmation. "Harry James Potter."

James' eyes brightened. "Hey, my name's in there!" He grinned with an easy smile and open eyes at Harry. "Coincidence? I think not."

Fox meowed, sidling up to James. She rubbed her head against his side, tail swishing against his back. James looked surprised, instinctively raising her hands to avoid touching the cat.

Harry was shocked as well. It seemed that his little cat knew exactly that James had been claimed by Harry. He grinned in surprise, meeting James' eyes. He gestured down at Fox, miming a petting motion.

James carefully laid his hand on her head, scratching lightly between her ears. But when she meowed harder, pressing against him, he added more force until she was purring deeply. He smiled, stroking along her back. The cat meowed softly, turning her face towards Harry before going back to James.

"A perk of venenamania, I guess," James said, running his hands up and down her soft pelt. "I get to meet all these cool animals." He grinned at Harry. "And I guess I even get to be claimed by a certifiable venenamaniac, which is not something everyone can say."

His head cocked to one side, thinking. "I would whether there'll be any venenamaniacs at Hogzits or whatever it's called. That'd be interesting. There'd be a whole new range of magical plants, maybe. Or even magical creatures."

He turned to Harry, excitement brimming in his eyes. "Do you think you'll get to meet a dragon? How incredible that would that be! Send me pictures!"

Harry laughed, his mind shooting to every possibility. A dragon! What about a unicorn, a pegasus, a minotaur? His mind shot to Greek Mythology, a class he had studied in school. Would he get to meet any of _them_? Glee filled his eyes, turning them nearly sparkling with how bright they were.

"Magic!" Harry cried. "Could I make plants grow? Like, have them be like Jack and the Beanstalk?"

Then his mind snapped back. "What about poisons? Are there magical poisons?"

James' shot up, ideas seeming to boil in his eyes. "Oh, you could send me back any plants you find." He muttered, barely loud enough for Harry to hear. "We could create whole new poisons… Oh, this will be _wonderful_ …"

They just sat there, bright sun streaming down on their shoulders. Harry's attention snapped to some of the plants in the flowerbeds.

"Do you think I could do magic _now_?" He asked, already moving towards a large pink hyacinth. "Make this - I dunno - change color?"

James nodded eagerly, shifting over until he was sitting, cross-legged, next to Harry. "Try it," he suggested. "Let's just see if it works."

Harry shifted his weight from side to side, not sure how to do it. He held his hands over the plant, fingers splayed.

His eyes closed in concentration, trying to squash thoughts from his mind. He concentrated on the flower even though he couldn't see it, thinking of the circle shaped petals and fist sized flower.

 _Blue. Blue. Blue_.

Deep inside of him, like a spark popping right in chest, something moved. It twitched right next to his heart, next to his lungs; like a wave of emotions he couldn't read it.

He concentrated on the feeling, not hearing James lean closer, or feel Abrin pressing down on his shoulders. Couldn't sense Foxglove working her way closer to him, nor could he feel her press the tuft of white fur on her tail to his side.

But he could feel the effect.

Suddenly, the wave of _something_ deep inside his chest twitched into motion and righted itself. It soared up through his body, settling in his fingers. Then, like one would shake water off of their hands, Harry flicked his fingers downward and watched magic happen.

 _Blue. Blue. Blue._

The flower, which had once been a gentle pink, shuddering. It flexed like it was growing even farther before, in the very center of the flower, a deep navy blue began to bleed through.

Each of the petals were changed to the same vibrant shade. The flower waited a second, shaking, before it settled down like it had always been, but now a brilliant blue.

"I did it," Harry exclaimed.

James came over and laid a hand across a shoulder. "You did," he agreed.

* * *

 **Yay! Another chapter! Aw, how I spoil you… *grins***

 **So this entire chapter was only going to be half of one chapter, with the other half being Harry sending a reply back. But you know what? I wanted Harry and James to meet and have fun.**

 **The original idea didn't even have Harry** _ **talking**_ **to James before leaving to go to Hogwarts. Sometimes, I swear, this story is writing itself.**

 **Except I'm stilling writing it.**

 **And my hands still hurt.**

 **But oh, Foxglove isn't as innocent of a kitten as we thought! Yes, for anyone who asks, Foxglove is** _ **not**_ **some kind of big cat. She is a magical cat, and this is where the first part of my little interactive story comes in. I am taking suggestions for what people want Fox to be.**

 **All the rules are that she has to be big, gray, and magical. That's it! You can even make up a species if you want! Try it! I will say whoever won and the next two chapters, and that is when I will pick.**

 **Please read and review!**

 **Frost OUT!**


	9. Professor Sprout

James tucked himself closer to Harry, a single arm around his shoulders. Abrin raised his brown-grey head up and slithered up the man's arm, coming to a stop when he was equally resting on both of them. He closed his pitch black eyes and lowered his head again.

James chuckled, and then the moment was gone. Harry laughed as well, still staring at the brilliant blue flower. To think that _he_ had done that; it was simply mind-altering.

"So." James untucked himself from harry, turning around while still sitting to meet him eye to eye. "Magic."

"Magic," Harry agreed. For what more words were there to say? A random owl pops up with the message that he had magic and was going to a school that would teach him.

 _Owl_.

Harry's eyes widened, and his head snapped to James'. "James, we have to reply! With an owl!" He picked up the letter, eyes flicking over the part that said 'we await your owl'.

James groaned, frustration filling his voice. "An _owl_? How are we supposed to find one of those?"

Harry shrugged, but already excitement was brimming in his eyes. "I don't know!" He exclaimed. "I want to try!"

James grumbled good-naturedly, pushing himself up into a standing position. His arms shot above his head, stretching mightily. His eyes snapped to something on his chest, and he sighed, disappointed.

"My shift ends in two hours," he said, his voice dropping a bit as he looked up at the sun. He caught sight of Harry's disappointed face. "But we can go owl hunting afterward."

Harry brightened up again, one hand reaching out to stroke Fox between the ears. She purred, yellow eyes flashing. "After your shift," he agreed. "Then we can reply to Hogzits."

They both shared a wicked grin before bursting out in laughter again.

James' shift seemed to drag on for hours and hours.

The man was slumped behind the counter, head propped up by a single hand. His tired blue eyes swept the glass door every few seconds before blinking closed. His neat little apron was rumpled from being pressed into the counter.

Harry was sitting behind him, mostly hidden behind the large desk. Abrin was half in his school and half out, curled around one of Harry's legs. Fox was lying next to him, her thick coat pressing against his legs. Harry's back was resting on James' legs, and his eyes were closed. It had been his most stressful urge to this day and James was definitely allowing him to sleep.

If anyone were to tell him that he had a smile on his face as Harry leaned a little hard into his legs he would tell them they were wrong.

His eyes were fixed on the clock, and how it inched steadily closer to five o' clock. It was 4:53 now, and these seven minutes had never gone slower in his entire life.

There hadn't been another customer, not another person to take his mind off of the mind-numbing boredness he felt right now. James stifled a heavy yawn behind one hand, his eyes blinking closed again.

When he opened them, it was to the slight ringing of his watch against his skin. His blue eyes shot up the clock.

 _5:01_

He whooped with happiness, shaking himself. He felt the boy leaning on his legs stir, the cat by his side jumping to her feet. Fox peered up at him, yellow eyes brought but half lidded with sleepiness. She yawned, showing half-inch long fangs.

Harry smacked his lips, arms stretching above his head and hitting James' legs. The boy cracked his back, placing his hands on the tile below. He pushed up, his back pressing lightly to James before he was standing.

Harry's eyes were dull with boredom and post-nap, but with a single series of blinks he was alive again, his face bright and excited. "Shift's over?" He asked, hands twitching against his thighs.

James laughed at his expression. "Yes. Let's go find ourselves an owl."

Harry _squealed_ , his eyes wide open and unblinking. He knelt down quickly, pushing the still asleep Abrin into his school bag. The meter-long and wrist-thick Adder grumbled slightly, tiny hisses spilling from his mouth before Harry closed the top over his head.

Fox poked her head closer to the bag, sniffing it. She lifted one giant paw and prodded the bag, sending it falling slightly to the ground.

" _Away, you vicious beast_ ," Abrin hissed up at her. Harry shoved a palm over his hand to stifle his laughter, but his eyes gleamed with mirth. He picked up the bag, grunting slightly, and swung it over his shoulders. The snake hissed again but Harry ignored it.

He was going owl hunting!

He scooped up the still crumpled letter with one hand, bringing it up in front of his face. James leaned closer, eyes skimming over the page. He frowned as he read a line, before disappearing from view and heading to the back of the shop.

Harry ignored the pang of _he's mine_ that swept through his head, focusing more on Fox. The cat had never allowed herself to wear a collar, and so Harry had been forced to train her to walk perfectly beside Harry. It was the only way to trick people into thinking she had a leash on, and only then Fox wouldn't be taken away by officials. He had seen it happen to a small black dog roaming the streets, and would never let it happen to Fox.

The giant cat was shooting up past his knees, her paws growing with her. She was growing big enough that people had stopped and asked him if he had a cougar with him. Harry had laughed by quickly walked away.

James emerged from the back of the shop, clutching the letter. From within it, he pulled out another sheet of paper.

"This one's got all of your supplies on it." James held it up, and Harry could see neat lines of print over them. He folded it up, sticking it into Harry's school bag. Abrin coiled around the new thing, tail slipping out of the top of the bag. Harry idly flipped it back in, the brown-gray scales disappearing.

"We'll check that later. We need to get a reply." James walked over to the counter, Harry dancing out of his way. He pulled open a thin drawer, popping out almost instantly with a bright red pen. After a few moments of digging and shuffling around things, he had a piece of paper in his hands.

"How good's your handwriting?" James asked, pen flicking in between his fingers. He hadn't ever seen the boy write.

Harry blushed.

"Okay then. I'm writing," James muttered. He spared a look at Harry and grinned at the cherry coloring there. He popped off the cap, easily gripping the pen in his left hand. He stopped the point half an inch above the paper, turning to Harry. "What do you want it to say?"

Harry frowned, thinking. "Um." his tongue popped out, and Harry bit it in concentration. "Hi, my name is Harry. I don't really understand this, but I accept?" He turned to James for confirmation.

The man finished the last sentence, the words printed on the paper. "Done!" Harry shuffled over, still lugging his school bag, and peered over the man's shoulder, only to realize he was way too short. Grumbling slightly, he moved his way to the right and looked at the paper sideways. It was all down word for word.

"Okay." Harry ran a hand through his hair, a habit he picked up from James. "So, I'm going to a magic school."

James grinned at him. "Only if we find an owl first!" The man stood, stretching his back. He walked over to the large glass window in front of the store, grabbing onto a little sign. He flipped it over, letting the _Sorry! We're Closed_ part seeable outside the store. Then he headed over to the door, gesturing for Harry to follow. The boy did, a grin on his face and a cat by his side.

They emerged out from the store to meet the rush hour. Every person who was finished with their nine to five was out on the streets, eager to head home. Harry was nearly swept away but James caught him by the arm and pulled him back.

"Just like my school," Harry grumbled. Fox tucked herself close to Harry's legs, hissing at the legs that came too close to her.

"How are we going to find an owl in this mess?" To answer, all James did was point upwards. Harry followed his finger until it landed on a small tree that sprouted up from the crowd. On one of the lower branches, a large brown bird sat, large eyes gleaming. An owl.

"That was easy," Harry said in surprise, eyes shooting up to James'.

"It was," James answered, eyes wide. Then his gaze flicked over the crowd. "Well, we've still got to get through them." Harry winced, eyes searching for any open spot. There wasn't any.

"Wait!" Harry quickly grabbed at the letter James held in his hand, snatching up the envelope. "Idea." James stared as he arranged the three pieces of paper in his hand tightly so he wouldn't lose any, and then threw his hand up in the air. Harry waved the letter in the air wildly, nearing hitting James.

The owl, who had just been sitting there calmly, swiveled its head over to Harry's direction within a second of the letter being in the air. It shifted its weight in between its two legs before its wings snapped out and it fell out of the tree, shooting towards Harry.

The crowd cried out as the beautiful owl flew over them, but the people were swept along quickly and so very few people noticed when the bird banked to the left and landed on the ground a few feet from James and Harry.

They both instantly knelt, their eyes staring into the owl's bright yellow-brown ones. Harry grabbed the piece of paper from James' hands, his words glinting. He held it up and the owl's attention followed it, before it finally stuck out a leg.

James and Harry looked at each other in confusion. Harry touched the paper to the owl's leg, but nothing happened. He dithered, trying to figure out what to do.

With an impressive eye roll for an owl, the bird's head shot down and it came up with Harry's letter gripped in its beak. It spread its wings and Harry shuffled backward, just enough for the owl to take to the skies. It flapped several times before it soared over the top of a building and Harry lost sight of it.

"It's taking the letter?"

James nodded.

"What do we do know?"

James shrugged slightly, pushing himself up to his feet. "Now, we wait." He grinned at Harry. "Although, I'd much rather do it inside the safety of the building."

Laughing, Harry followed him through the glass door.

* * *

It had only been half an hour when a deafening _crack_ echoed through _Pots, Plants, and Other Important Things_. James jerked up from the back where he was, watering the hyacinths while secretly taking care of his new nightshade blooms. Harry shot to his feet from where he had been reading, stroking Fox. They both looked at each other, before as one shooting towards the front part of the store.

The lights were off to further deter customers from coming in when the shop was closed, but that didn't stop a rather short woman who was standing in the middle. She had dark gray clothes on, clothes that swirled around her in great swatches of cloth like a mix between a dress and a bathrobe. Harry was suddenly reminded of the strange man wearing bathrobes that had bumped into him when he found Foxglove.

 _Was that man a wizard_?

"Hello?" Harry asked softly, stepping forward to get a better look at her. She had a long stick of wood in her hands, and was carefully looking around the store. Her eyes lit up when she caught sight of Harry.

"Hello, dear!" She exclaimed, stepping forward.

James was moving as well. He nearly ran out of the back, rushing forward and placing a protective hand on Harry's shoulder. His grip was tight and his body was tense.

 _Right. Venenamaniac_.

The woman stopped moving, but the smile on her face was as bright as ever. She had a rather round face that was accented by large blue eyes and a tan complexion. She wasn't chubby but had the appearance of not having lost her baby fat yet. She had an open face that looked like she smiled often. She had bright white teeth.

"Are you Harry Potter?" She asked, her voice sweet and open. Harry was already liking her.

"Yeah. Are you from Hogz- Hogwarts?" Harry said, catching himself at the last second. He didn't think that someone who worked there would be very happy with him insulting the school.

"I am." She smiled wider at him. Was that all she did? "My name is Professor Sprout, and I am the Head of Hufflepuff and I am the herbology professor."

One word stood out to Harry like it was magic itself. "Herbology? Is that like the study of plants?"

Professor Sprout nodded, taking a step forward and looking all around the store. "And it looks like you like plants!" She laughed, and Harry almost keeled over trying not to burst out into laughter.

She _really_ had no idea.

But Harry liked her open words, the way she smiled at him and, more importantly, how she loved plants. He couldn't imagine her taking a job teaching about them if he didn't like them, and that definitely put her in his good books.

"I'm James." He took a step forward, keeping Harry by his side, but his fingers were less tight and his posture not so rigid. "What can you tell me about Hogwarts?"

"Are you his guardian?" She asked curiously, but neither gave her a response. She shrugged and started to speak, her voice growing deeper and sucking Harry in.

"Long ago, there were four powerful magicians. Their names were Helga Hufflepuff, Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. They wanted to create a place where magical people could learn how to use their magic and protect themselves, for muggles didn't like wizards and witches at that time."

"What are muggles?" Harry interrupted. But Professor Sprout didn't seem to mind, apparently used to curious people.

"Muggles are people who don't have magic." She gestured to James. "I'm going to guess that you're a Muggle, right?"

James nodded, though his brow twisted a bit at the rather rude sounding word.

She shook her head, continuing with her story. "So they, combining their amazing powers, created a castle in the Highlands of Scotland. There, they hired teachers and taught students to control their magic.

They have long since passed, but now there are four houses to honor them. When a student comes to school, they are sorted into one of four houses. Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and Slytherin. That placement decides what hours they will have certain classes with and when their free times are."

"How do we get sorted? Is it like a test?" Harry asked, mind spinning. Would it be like his school, filling out a questionnaire?

Professor Sprout grinned at him. "School secret. You'll know when we get there. But what goes on in the school is that we have you for a regular school year, but during it, we'll teach you Transfiguration, the magic of turning something into something else. Then there's Charms, which is magic that adds things, like different colors or properties, to objects. Then we have Herbology, where you learn all about the plants in our world. Potions, which is just making magical potions. Astronomy, which is studying the stars. We also have Defence Against the Dark Arts, which is where you learn offensive and defensive spells. Lastly is History of Magic, where you learn about Wizarding Britain's history." Her mouth twisted at the last sentence, and Harry tilted his head, curious.

"We also learn to fly, but that's only for our sport, Quidditch."

"A sport?" James' eyebrows rose, and he looked excited. "What kind of sport?"

Harry shot a look up at the man. Since when was he interested in sports?

Professor Sprout chuckled. "It's a sport rather similar to what you call football, I believe. Except it's in the air. We fly around on broomsticks and try to score balls through large rings in the ground." She grinned. "I'll leave the more in-depth details to Madam Hooch, who teaches it."

"Is it safe?" James asked.

Professor Sprout cocked her head to one side, thinking. "It is if everyone follows the rules. There have been a few accidents but those were easily fixed."

"Fixed?" Now Harry is asking, a bit confused.

"Magic is amazing at healing. We can fix broken bones in a single night, and so a few falls off of brooms are easy things to heal." She explained, sounding rather smug. She obviously loved her magic.

"In a single night?" Harry was amazed and doesn't have to try to hide to the awe in his voice.

"Indeed." Professor Sprout smiled at him. "Do you want to go and buy supplies?"

Harry is about to start nodding his head so hard it snaps off, because who doesn't want to go buy magical things, when suddenly he remembered the man beside him. "Can James come?" He asked, nervousness pooling on the tip of his tongue.

Professor Sprout paused, staring at the man she called Muggle. Then she smiled and nods. "Of course he can."

Harry stepped forward, ready to move when he heard a nearly silent meow from behind him. He whirled around and saw one of Fox's great yellow eyes peeking out from behind one of the shelves in the store.

"Just a second," he fired up at James. The man nods but Harry is already moving, speeding towards the back of the store. Fox disappeared around the back of the store, heading towards the still open back door.

Harry plowed through it, emerging in the garden. Abrin poked his head out of the school bag, black tongue flickering in Harry's direction. He slithered the rest of the way out, sliding over the stone floor.

" _Wait here. I'll be back soon_ ," he hissed, lowering himself to the ground. Fox, padding up next to him, nodded. She crept towards a corner of the courtyard and curled up, lying on the ground. Harry smiled at both of them and then went back to the front of the store, giving a thumbs up to James. He grinned back before they both turned to Professor Sprout, who looked mildly confused but was rolling with it.

"Let's go and get your supplies." She said, one hand pushing at the glass door. The bell rung cheerfully, and then Harry was out of the streets. Rush hour was over but there were still a few stragglers poking around in shops and walking down the streets.

"This way!" She said warmly, pointing to the left. Harry and James started walking, Harry nearly quivering with excitement.

They walked for nearly a quarter of an hour, reaching a busier part of town. But then Professor Sprout held out an arm, stopping them.

"Harry, dear, if you wouldn't mind holding James' arm right now, that would be lovely." Harry does, grabbing onto his arm tightly. James squeezed back, both nervous.

"Look to your left, please." They both do, rotating almost robotically. Harry doesn't notice anything strange, his eyes flicking over the people in front of him. But when James gasped in surprise, Harry stared at the shop directly across from them.

It was a rather grimy building that didn't match any surrounding it. Where there must have once been clean red bricks, it was all stained a rather untasteful grey from dirt and mud. The window were nearly black with dirt but still a light flickered behind them, and Harry could see shapes moving beyond their frames. There was a single wooden door with several long scars up and down it, like someone had taken a knife to it. There was a large sign hanging over it all, proclaiming in sloppy letters _The Leaky Cauldron_.

But what amazed Harry was that the people walking by him didn't seem to notice the building. There were some going in the stores on either side but not a single person walked in the Leaky Cauldron. Harry stepped forward, his hand leaving James'.

Instantly the man was swiveling his head to either side, looking confused. "Where is it?" He asked, voice rising with frustration. "It was right there!" He started to walk away, still wildly turning his head.

"Oops!" Professor Sprout said. "Harry, could you please touch him again?"

Harry did, reaching forward and snagging a bit of James' clothing. He grabbed his hand again, and then James was locked back onto the Leaky Cauldron.

"That was weird." He said, shaking his head. "It was there, and I could see it, but in the next second it was gone."

"About that, yes." Professor stepped forward. "Muggles need to have contact with a magical to be able to see the Leaky Cauldron." She arranged her robes around her, the gray fabric swishing over the ground.

She turned to them, one eyebrow raised. "Do you want to go in now?"

Harry shook himself, a light trembling starting in his chest. He wanted to go, oh yes he did.

But James was faster than him. Using his long legs, the man started to walk forward, eating up the space between them. He kept his grip tight on Harry's hand, keeping them attached. Harry yelped and sped up, coming up to match James' pace. They strode confidently towards the pub, the building that would change their lives. With hardly a pause, James stretched his hand out and pushed the door open.

* * *

 **Yay! Another chapter. I'm doing this all while I'm supposed to be studying for my English test, so if I fail, I blame you xD**

 **So I've gotten a lot of people telling me what I should make Foxglove! They are really, really creative and I'm having a hard time picking which I want to use. But I've also got some people telling me I should stick with cannon and make her a Kneazle. And you know, I could. But I also think that screw it, this is a fanfiction and I want Foxglove to be special.**

 **So sue me.**

 **Oh wait, you can't! Because I'm not JK and you don't know who I am.**

 **(I hope)**

 **(Please don't)**

 **But anyway, I want to say next chapter (maybe) is when I will have Fox revealed. But what's more important is that Harry's going to be getting his wand and everything! And let me just tell you, this was a cool scene I've been planning.**

 **But I'm kind of sad. I just got a brilliant idea for a plan a bit into Harry's first year, and it seems** _ **so**_ _**far away**_ **. I just want to write it now but I can't because then the story might change by then and I'll have 9 thousand words that don't fit. :(**

 **Anyway, please read and review!**

 **Frost OUT!**


	10. Diagon Alley

Harry idly wondered what had ever made him want to go inside the Leaky Cauldron in the first place. He should have probably guessed by the outer appearance that the pub was a horrible, dirty place, and he was _not_ very happy at being correct.

The inside was just as grimy as the windows were. It was a rather large room, that was true, but there was dirt on every inch of the floor, stomped heavily in near both doors, one in the front and a thin one in the back. There was a splattering of tables in chairs that all looked like they had been dumped in a compost heap, and one lone counter that had had dirt rubbed deep within the grain of the very wood by countless scrubs with unclean towels.

And then there were the people.

Seemingly hundreds crowded around the room, each talking and laughing and tossing back heavy mugs. They each had their own chair and some shared tables, and there were plates of food that sometimes were graced on a wooden table.

Behind the counter stood a tall man wiping down a mug with a heavily stained mug, his eyes sharp despite his nearly pure shock of white hair. Keen gray eyes snapped over to Harry and searched over his face, shooting up and doing the same to Professor Sprout and James. Harry stood still for it all, just honestly confused. But then James released his hand, stepping deeper into the wood. He turned back to Professor Sprout, gesturing around.

"Well? Is this where we buy the supplies?" He asked, fingers tapping along his thighs. A stumped man grunted and took a quick swig of his mug nearby.

"Muggle," the man spat out. He reached into his pocket and produced a thin piece of wood. He started to stand, still clutching his glass. His feet were shaking and he bumped into his table, uncoordinated.

"Hold, Carrow." Professor Sprout strode forward. Her own stick of wood was clenched tightly in her hand, pointed unwaveringly at the drunken man. "They are not to be dragged under your opinion here."

James looked honestly confused, and Harry knew his face looked the exact same. What would the man - Carrow - have done to him or James?

Professor twitched her want to one side, and Carrow frowned. He snapped his head back, gulping down the rest of his drink. With a violent toss, the glass shattered on the ground. He held his stick aloft before turned unsteadily on his feet. With a _crack_ like thunder, the man disappeared.

Harry's jaw dropped open. Where had he gone?

His eyes flicked over the table, the broken pieces of glass. There was no sign of the man there.

Professor Sprout did a neat flick with her wood like there was a ribbon attached to the end. The pieces of glass began to float up into the air, twirling around each other. The air glimmered as even the tiny glass dust flew up to join the mass of the broken mug. Then the professor snapped her wood forward like she was jabbing something. The glass disappeared.

"Sorry about that, Tom," she said to the man behind the counter, unaware of Harry's utter amazement and surprise.

"S'no problem, Pomona. Just save me from doing it meself." The man, Tom, grinned at her with an array of missing teeth.

Professor smiled at him, flicking her wood. It shot back up her arm, disappearing into the robes she wore. She turned back to Harry and James, clapping her hands together. "Well then! Off we go!"

Harry and James exchanged an amazed look. She had simply waved her wand and all of the glass was instantly gone and vanished to who-knows-where.

Harry couldn't wait to see what he could do.

He followed the professor like a duckling as she led the two of them to the back of the Leaky Cauldron, heading towards the small wooden door. She gripped the handle and pushed it open, the door creaking like it needed an oiling. She pushed it open, allowing Harry and James inside.

It was a small courtyard, with a stone path with grass growing out of every available crack. There, on the opposite side, was an enormous brick wall. Harry tried to look up to see the top of it, but his attention kept getting caught by things on the ground. He gritted his teeth and searched for the top, but then a particular piece of grass snagged his eyes. What was going on?

But Professor Sprout was already stepping forward, and Harry's eyes snapped to her. He couldn't wait to see more of this magic.

But by the time Harry's eyes had refocused on her, he could only see her gently tapping her wand against a single brick on the wall.

The brick shuddered, like someone behind the wall was shaking it. Then, suddenly, the brick started to split in half, the red surface snapping right down the middle. Each half folded back into the bricks behind him, and that started a wave. Every brick started to flip, rotating around until it fell into the brick behind it.

The entire wall started doing a wave like a crowd in a baseball game. The wall folded back on itself farther and farther until a whole new world was revealed behind it.

Harry's jaw dropped.

Cobbled streets shown with barely a speck of dust flying on it. Flickering lights were perched on every wall, flames lighting them even while the sun glared bright in the sky. The long street had stores on every side, with crazy names Harry couldn't even start to read. All of the shops had giant glass windows where their products were displayed. Harry saw glass bottles, rolls of parchment, endless rows of quills, and stacks of books.

And then there were the people.

Hundreds, if not more, people were swarming over the alley. They were all wearing the bathrobe and dress mix that Professor Sprout was wearing, though in every shade imaginable. Bright blues to dark blacks to burnt orange. Harry turned his head half an inch and got a whole new wave of colors.

He walked slightly closer to one of the closest store, peering into the glass window. He saw rows of books, ones with strange titles and even stranger pictures. Harry swept a hand through his hair, pushing his bangs after from his forehead.

There was a pause in which he heard a short intake of breath from behind him. Harry spun around, only to see a tiny, redheaded missile heading directly toward him. A sentence of words smacked him in the head and echoed around the alley.

" _Harry Potter_!"

Harry tensed and, looking back at the window and seeing his reflection, he saw his lightning bolt scar bared across his forehead. He only had time for a single, panicked thought.

 _Oh no_.

And then the tiny girl smacked into him with the force of a train.

Harry 'oophed!' and spun backward, his back hitting the glass. He saw, through half-lidded eyes, a crowd of people heading toward him, eyes bright and excited.

They would _swallow him whole_.

Hands were gripping his and names were thrown at him, bouncing off his head as he struggled to get away. The redheaded girl had lost her grip but more arms brushed against his hands, chest, shoulders; Harry was drowning in a sea of people.

A strong hand landed on his side and another joined it on the opposite side and suddenly Harry was being lifted into the air. He yelped and started to struggle, but then he caught sight of wild black hair and stilled. James!

The tall man lifted Harry up and settled him down on his shoulder. Harry grabbed onto his neck tightly. He reached one hand up to fix his glasses. They had been nearly knocked off and were only hanging on by a single arm. He quickly adjusted them and looked down.

There were so many below him, Harry feared for his life. They crowded around James, hands still trying to reach up and touch Harry. But James waded through them with a careful precision, lunging forward.

Harry saw Professor Sprout, one arm above her head. She waved to attract Harry's attention, and he quickly tapped James' head. When the man looked up, Harry pointed. James' blue eyes narrowed in concentration and he started to move quickly, heading towards a large marble building. Harry watched it, still gripping tightly to James.

There were two short men by either side of the giant white doors, wearing reflective clothes Harry thought might be armor, but James lunged him through the doors and into the large room before he could see them clearly.

There was a second pause before James reached up, unhooking Harry from his neck. He deposited Harry back on the ground, and Harry shook himself. There was a thump from behind him, and Harry whirled around just in time to see the large doors slid closed, cutting off the excited voices. He breathed out a breath of relief.

Then he turned and examined the room he was in. It was long and narrow, more like a hall than a building. There were tall counters every couple of feet, manned by more short people. They had pointy noses and smaller eyes, with long ears and thin fingers. There was one at every counter, and all were either helping wizards lined up in front of them or messing around with golden coins and jewels.

Professor Sprout neared them, her stick of wood clenched tightly in her hand. "I do apologize for that, Harry," she said. "I keep forgetting you are famous, you're just such a normal boy."

"Famous?" Harry echoed, confusion glinting on the edges of his voice. He shook his head, he'd ask about that later. He pointed to the wood in her hand. "What's that?"

"This?" The professor held it up, looking at it. At his nod, she laughed. "I can't believe I didn't tell you! This is called my wand. It's what I channel my magic with. You'll be getting one too, but we just have to get you some money first. That's why we're here."

"Money?" Harry asked curiously, eyes skimming over the rows of counters. Indeed, the golden coins did look like money, but he didn't know any currency that looked like that. Maybe a wizarding money?

Professor Sprout nodded. "Yes. Harry, this might not be the best time to tell you, but I can explain most of it while we're in line." She steered the group of three towards the longest line in the room, standing behind many different wizards and witches.

"Your parents were called James and Lily Potter." She acknowledged Harry's startled glance at James. "Yes, I was rather surprised at that as well. But your parents were both magical, and they went to Hogwarts. They were both in Gryffindor, as I recall. They were wonderful wizards and were very powerful. Right after school, they had you."

They moved a step forward in line, Professor Sprout still talking. "But during that time, the wizarding world was at war. An evil man named You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was terrorizing the streets. But your parents, Harry, they fought against him. Three times, they stopped one of his plots. So when you were born, You-Know-Who went after you to kill you. He killed both of your parents that night, on Halloween. But somehow, you survived. The only thing known about you is the fact you've got that scar." She pointed to his forehead, where the lightning bolt was nestled in his skin.

Harry brushed his bangs over it, hiding it from sight. "But why am I famous?"

"Because you defeated You-Know-Who that night, Harry." She said gently. "No one really knows how yet, but he was never seen after that day. Somehow, as a tiny baby, you defeated a Dark Lord. That's why everyone loves you."

James butted in, his voice dark and confused. "So, because he defeated someone as an infant, he's now a celebrity?"

Professor Sprout nodded. "He is called, I believe, the Boy-Who-Lived."

James shook his head, disbelief etched deeply into his face. "Ma'am, offence completely meant, your world is bullshit."

She jerked back, eyes wide. But Harry found himself inching closer to James, trusting the man far more than any person he had just met today. He idly noticed a few other wizards in the room turn towards them, and ducked farther behind James.

"You mean to say that Harry here, as a baby, defeated a Dark Lord that adult wizards who've been training couldn't? And now, as a tiny tyke, he is a universally recognized hero? To a war he doesn't even know?"

James' voice grew in volume as the man clenched his hands in fists at his side, bearing down at the professor. Many of the wizards in the room turned towards them, even the goblins stopping their work to listen in.

"And this allows him to be attacked - because that's _exactly_ what is was - on the streets with anyone but a _Muggle_ being able to protect him! He could have been injured! How could you stupid wizards handle if your boy-hero was injured!"

Harry leaned against James, protecting himself from the other wizards who were crowding in on them. He looked up at the person that was _his_ and listened intently.

"So, why can't you all just go wave your little wands and go save yourself! You don't need Harry to do that for you! He's never done magic before in his life; get someone who has to go save you!"

James suddenly snapped to attention, seeing the small crowd of people around him, listening in. They weren't crowding in like the one outside, but they were close. He grabbed onto Harry's arm and started to march forward, the people clearing their path.

So many wizards had moved forward that there was a completely empty line in front of a goblin. James marched right up to them and coughed loudly. The goblin looked at him with beady black eyes.

James' eyes flashed brightly but his back was iron straight, not like him in the slightest. Harry realized something very fast.

 _James was in the middle of an urge, and Harry didn't know how to get him back_.

And, quite frankly, Harry didn't know whether he wanted to bring James back. Everything was going pretty well for both of them right now.

"Sir!" James just about nearly barked. He coughed, face brightening to a light red. "Um. Can you please tell me how I can get access to Harry's money?"

The goblin looked up, rather dull boredom in his eyes. "Name?"

"James Lakeson."

"Have you cared for the boy, fed him, housed him, and clothed him?"

"Yes," James answered back. Because it was true. There had been a night when the Dursley's had left for two night in a hotel without telling Harry. He had come back to the store to see James just leaving. The man had worked past Harry's hysteria and helped him back to his own house, which was a large apartment a little downtown. He had fed Harry a simple meal of soup and given him a pair of older shirt and pants for him to wear to bed. Harry hadn't ever gotten rid of the clothes, and so he had technically done all four.

"Then you can apply for his guardianship, as long as he agrees of his own free will." At that the goblin looked over the counter at Harry, one pencil-thin eyebrow raised.

"I do," Harry said as strongly as he could. Guardianship? What was that?

But he trusted James because he was _his_ and nothing could change that.

"Come with me." The goblin hopped off of the counter, flipping a small sign that stated in large block letters _Closed_. He took off at a speedy pace towards a small wooden iron in the back, one the perfect height for James to not have to duck. Harry took off after him, James following directly behind.

The goblin led them to two doors down, where a large wooden door with iron etchings on it stood. He gestured to it, waiting until Harry was brave enough to step forward to knock. The door started to open almost instantly, and the goblin nodded and turned around, heading back to the front room.

The door fully opened, and light streamed through into Harry's face. James paused for a second before he started to walk forward, pressing one large hand in front of his face to block the light.

Inside, it was a setting rather like an office. One large desk that seemed to be made from an entire log sat in the middle, with two chairs on one side and a large chair on the other. A goblin occupied the one chair, and he looked up and stared as James and Harry walked in. They both sat down on the chairs, the back rather stiff.

"You wish to claim guardianship?" The goblin said.

Harry and James exchanged a glance. Was this common practice in the wizarding world?

"Yes," James answered. He pointed to Harry. "Me of him."

The goblin shot him a look that clearly said James was an idiot. "Have you cared for him, fed him, housed him, and clothed him?"

"Yes," James said again. Why was this so easy? Could anyone just take guardianship of anyone?

"Name?"

James paused for a second. "Of me or him?"

The goblin looked up from a paper he was pulling in front of him. "Both."

"Um. My name is James Lakeson, and this is Harry Potter." The goblin didn't even spare a glance at Harry after the mention of his name.

"Any known afflictions for either one of you that could change your opinions in any way?"

"Venenamania for both of us." Harry shot a glance at James after answering, who looked back at him and nodded.

The goblin cocked an eyebrow, before pushing a paper in front of each of them. "Sign here."

"Why is this so easy?" James blurted out. "Could anyone just take guardianship of anyone?"

The goblin just about glared at him before taking a deep breath. "These papers are enchanted by magic, Mr. Lakeson. If there were any ill-will between either person signing these papers the transaction would not go through."

"Magic can do that?" Harry interjected, eyes wide.

"Obviously, Mr. Potter," the goblin drawled. "Now please, sign."

James picked up the black feathered quill, grimacing at the strange feel of it. Then, using his left hand, he scrawled in an uneven penmanship his name across the thin black line.

Harry frowned at the paper. Was he signing his life away?

James was _his_.

And with that, he wrote _Harry James Potter_ over the paper.

His magic thrummed deep inside his chest.

* * *

Far away, in the Highlands of Scotland, inside of a tall tower inside a castle, a quill stirred to life. This was not an ordinary quill. This was the Quill, decided of who would enter Hogwarts or not.

It hovered over thick pages of a book, hundreds of names written over every space. The page magically turned once, before falling flat on the table.

The Quill moved closer, inching towards a name. It drew a thin line over it, before writing a new name an inch to the right.

 _Harry Potter_ became _Harry Lakeson_.

So mote it be.

* * *

 **So there you go! Two chapters in one day; and I want everyone to know I had not prewritten any of these chapters. Everything was written the day I sent it out.**

 **So the goblins might be a bit cliche, but I feel I did it differently. But some clarification is necessary.**

 **So those pages Harry and James signed? Those paper are blessed with Magick, as families are something very important to the wizarding world. Harry's original guardian was Petunia Dursley by default, as she was his last living relative. But Harry could be claimed by an actual Paper-Signing, as it is called. But after that, it will be very difficult to get Harry another guardian if he still has James, as they were both free of ill-will against each other.**

 **Sorry if this is confusing. PM me if you need any more details.**

 **But onto Foxglove! I've received a lot of people telling me to do Nundu. And** _ **OH**_ **, how I want to. Giant, poison-spitting cat? Harry would love it!**

 **But how in the entire world would Harry be able to keep his Nundu? Sooner or later a wizard would recognize Fox, and then she would be taken away from Harry and probably killed while she's young. I'm sorry, but I feel that a Nundu is just a bit** _ **too**_ **dangerous for it to be entirely possible.**

 **Also, I've reached double digits! This is much longer than any story I've every written! YAY!**

 **Anyway! Please read and review!**

 **Frost OUT!**


	11. Vault 687

Harry found out rather quickly that he did not enjoy the cart ride down to his Trust Vault.

He eyed the rather rickety looking wooden cart. It was sitting on a pair of metal rails that were angled towards a stone corridor. It was made of thick wooden beams but there seemed to be splinters poking out from it like weapons themselves. The iron bars were wrapping around the top and bottom of the wood, like the pictures of the minecarts he had seen before. They hadn't seemed this dangerous in real life.

The stone corridor looked like a gaping mouth, its stone archway illuminated by two flickering torches on either side. There were other rails that sped into the darkness, each one either already gone or with an empty cart sitting on it.

The goblin, this one with a rather short height, gestured again to it. Harry ignored his impulse to get away from the strange cart and instead walked towards the cart, clambering inside. It was surprisingly roomy inside there, and had three seats at the back and one up front for the goblin. But the seats were stiff and made of unforgiving wood, and Harry squirmed slightly in discomfort.

James was there. He had, before the goblin could take them down to his Trust Vault, made it tell him about the ride. He had then decided to sit out after he had heard about the guardian dragons and dangerous turns. His face had been a bit green.

Instead, Professor Sprout sat next to him. She had her gray robes tucked close to her body and was sitting with the pose of a person who knew exactly what she was doing. She offered Harry a smile when she saw he was looking at her. Harry grinned back.

After signing the paper and seeing the words flare a bright white, James had snapped out his urge. He had looked around for a few seconds before he seemed to remember, one eyebrow coming up in realization. He had looked at Harry, eyes flicking over his form. But when he realized Harry wasn't injured, he had walked out of the room as soon as the goblin had dismissed them. He had gone out to the large room and made his way to Professor Sprout. He had apologized to her, and she had accepted it with a gentle smile on her face. She explained that many muggles were confused on their rules and she was yelled at many times. The professor said it was fine and she knew that everyone always panicked when they were introduced to magic.

James had tilted his head to one side, saying that he was apologizing for yelling at her. He was _not_ , however, taking back any of the statements he had said about her world. Then he had stuck out a hand. She shook it, calm blue eyes picking apart his own.

They had walked up to the nearest teller, where they waited in silence for several minutes. Then they had been led by a goblin up to the cart and now Harry was staring at the stone opening with a mixture of trepidation and anxiety. One of the goblin's points had been that the carts traveled at a fast speed to avoid people from stopping them or being delayed for time.

Harry rather doubted it, and was wondering whether the goblins had a competition on how many wizards they could fling out of their carts.

He hoped he wasn't one of them.

The goblin seemed to get into the cart with a grace not present in either Harry or the professor. He grabbed onto a small iron lever poking out of the ground and had harshly yanked it towards himself, sending a small grin up at the two of them.

And then, with a heartstopping jerk, they had shot towards the blackness of the corridor.

Harry's hair was snapped flat against his head. His eyes were blown wide and he couldn't seem to close them. If his mouth had been open, he knew his lips would be flapping in the wind.

The sheer _force_ of the speed of the cart was amazing. Harry guessed they were being pulled along with speeds any car could never hope to catch. All he could see was twisting stone and other rails disappearing in the darkness.

The goblin at the front grinned at them, showing needle sharp teeth that flared in the light of the torch on the cart. Strangely enough, the fire never seemed to go out despite the wind that battered against it.

His beady black eyes flashed as he stared at the stone wall they were next to. With a sudden jerk, he yanked the lever away from him.

The cart snapped to a stop.

Harry tumbled forward, eyes wide. The edge of the cart hit him like a sucker punch, and he watched in horror as his glasses snapped off his face and fell down. The area below was just darkness and stone.

But then the glasses paused in midair, hovering. They stopped spinning, stopped moving, with easy reaching of the cart. Harry's hand flashed and he had them in his grip. He put them back on his face, the world swimming back into focus.

Harry looked at the goblin, confused. He opened his mouth to ask about the glasses but the goblin, without even looking at him, answered quickly.

"Shield charm around the cart. Wouldn't be good for money to be flying, would it?"

The goblin grabbed onto the torch, pulling it out of its socket on the cart. The light seemed to flare brighter at his touch, and he closed his clawed hand over the base of torch. He held it high, letting the flame be at eye level with Harry.

Harry looked at the stone wall. There was a ledge, maybe two meters wide, that ran along the wall. Stationed every couple of feet, there were giant iron doors with enormous letters branded into them. They had keyholes over them, large ones right in the middle of the door.

The goblin hopped out of the cart, the torch unwavering in his hand. He landed safely and was already moving towards a door only a few feet away from them. It was large with the number _687_ across the top.

Harry eyed the ledge, before standing up from his chair. He swung his leg over the side, feeling hard stone beneath him. He finished getting out, one hand steadying his glasses. He didn't want to lose them, even when he was in the cart.

Professor Sprout climbed out much faster than Harry, and soon they were both following the goblin towards the door. He held out a key and slowly slid it into the keyhole. Professor Sprout had been carrying the key, for reasons Harry didn't know. But he did intend to ask for it back, as it held the only way he knew to get his money. Maybe because his parents died, she had it? Even then, it was farfetched.

The door began to hiss open, and Harry half expected a wave of smoke to fall out from it, like on that one movie James had showed him. But instead, the firelight fell onto a glimmering pile of something shiny. Harry hissed, one hand shooting up to covered his eyes. But when the sting died away, he took his hand down and stared at the contents of the vault.

Gold. That was his first thought.

Piles of the large golden coins the goblins had been working with were sitting all around the small room. It seemed only the size of Dursley's living room, stretching back nearly four meters. It was around four meters wide as well, leaving plenty of room for whatever was inside.

And what was inside was money. Coins a bit smaller than the size of his palm glimmered up at him from every corner, sitting in unorganized piles. There was a thin path down the middle of the room, sneaking in between larges piles. There wasn't just gold, either; Harry saw bronze and silver glinting up at him as well, but the majority was the shining yellow.

"How much is in here?" Harry asked almost faintly. His eyes were are large as the coins as he stared over all of them.

"Every year, the vault is refilled to five hundred Galleons from the Potter Vault," the goblin said, his voice still full of his snark.

"In pounds?" Harry took a step forward, entering his vault. A single gold coin clanked over the stone floor as he bumped it with his foot, the sound loud and ringing.

"A Galleon is worth around 4.93 pounds by the latest show. It has to be converted here at Gringotts."

Harry shot a confused and rather desperate look at Professor Sprout, who smiled and answered his unspoken question. "This bank is called Gringotts, Harry. The Galleons are the gold coins, the silver ones are Sickles, and the bronze coins are known as Knuts."

"Is it five Knuts to one Sickle?" He asked, reaching out and grabbing a Galleon. It was smooth and cold. There was a carving on it of a string of number, and in the middle there was a fancy _G_.

Professor Sprout shook her head though Harry wasn't looking. "Its 17 Sickles to a Galleon and 29 Knuts to a Sickle."

"That's confusing," Harry muttered, dropping the Galleon back on the pile. It rang out with the sound of metal on metal.

"Well, I didn't create it, Harry."

"Why don't you just change it, though? It'd be much simpler." Harry turned back to the goblin, a question on the tip of his tongue. "Is there a way to move this? A charm?"

The goblin squinted at him. "Is this your first time visiting Gringotts?" He asked, turning back to the cart.

"Um, yes," Harry answered, confused.

"Here." The goblin handed him a small brown back. It looked like it was made of leather but when Harry grabbed it, it felt smoother, more like cotton. It had a drawstring top and was about as long as his forearm, though much thinner.

"Complementary moleskine bag. It is charmed with the undetectable expansion charm along with the feather-light charm." Harry stared at him until he sighed in exasperation. "It's larger on the inside and doesn't get heavier."

"Oh," Harry said, testing the weight out on his hand. He turned to his professor. "How much do you think I'll need?"

"Normally, a hundred Galleons would be fine, as you do have to buy a trunk. But if you want to get something else, more couldn't hurt."

Harry knelt by the closest pile, pulling open the bag as far as it could go. He counted about five before he simply started dumping handfuls of Galleons inside, the stream seeming unending. When the pile he had been taking from was nearly gone, he stopped and stood back up, grabbing the bag. It was the exact same weight.

Harry looked around the room. Now that he had taken over a hundred with him, the coins didn't seem quite so endless. It was only five hundred Galleons, after all. But it was refilled every year.

Harry stepped away from the vault, watching as the goblin pushed the giant iron door closed again. It must have a feather-light charm on it as well, Harry thought. Otherwise, it would have weighed several hundred pounds!

He held up the bag to his eye, staring at it. He held over 500 pounds in his hand, with many more inside his vault. He could buy his own apartment if he saved up some. He could move away from the Dursleys!

Then Harry remembered the paper. Maybe he already could. James was his Guardian now; maybe he could move and live with him. The money could definitely get them enough food and clothes, and then some.

"Harry?" Professor Sprout jerked him out of his thoughts. He smiled sheepishly at her and headed back to the cart, keeping a tight hand on his money bag. He got inside, settling himself back in the seat.

The ride back was just as annoying as the ride there.

Harry stepped out, head spinning slightly. He shook himself and jogged to catch up with Professor Sprout, who was walking back towards the front room. They pushed open the door and then James was there, going straight to Harry.

"How was is?" He asked, one eyebrow raised. Harry could only glare at him, brow lowered. James grinned and threw an arm over his shoulders. He directed his attention to Professor Sprout.

"What do we do next?"

She considered, head tilting to one side. "Well, you have a choice. You can either get your wand now or we can head to get your trunk. Do you have an opinion?"

"Wand." Both James and Harry said at the same time. They looked at each other and laughed, the sound bright.

Professor Sprout smiled at them before she gestured to the giant doors of Gringotts. "Well, that's just in Diagon Alley. We can go and get it right now."

Harry nodded quickly, tucking his money bag closer to his body. Now was _not_ the time to lose it. "What's Diagon Alley?"

"Oh, did I forget to tell you? Probably." She laughed. "Diagon Alley is a wizarding market. Gringotts is in it, it's this street we're on right now. They sell everything from pets to parchment to wands; it's where we can sell our magical things and trinkets."

"Wicked," Harry exclaimed, even as two goblins pushed the giant doors open for them. The light blinded him but within seconds he got another view of the alley.

Memories hit him and one hand shot up to his forehead, smushing his bangs over his lightning scar. James chuckled at him but then they were walking out towards the alley.

Professor Sprout steered them left, heading towards the only dirty shop on the street. Harry tensed, fearing another Leaky Cauldron.

He read the sign. It read, in peeling golden letters, _Ollivanders: Maker of Fine Wands since 328 B.C_.

Harry pushed open the front door, a soft chirping of a bell announcing his arrival. He smiled at the memory of the one on James' store and looked around.

It was a large room, but it was dwarfed by the size of the shelves everywhere. They towered up tot eh ceiling, covered in thin boxes with tiny words written on the end. Some were piled on the floors, some on the thin counter. There was a thin layer of dust on the ground along with the boxes, with a few scattered footsteps everywhere.

Was _this_ where he was getting his wand?

"Mr. Potter?" A soft voice filtered into his ear. Harry jumped, whirling around just as a man stepped out from behind a shelf. He was tall with a brilliant shock of white hair that curled and stuck out in the strangest manner. His eyes were like pools of moonlight, glassy and reflective. He had pale skin but his hands were well worn, covered in light scars and callouses.

"Yes?" Harry replied, peering at the curious man.

"You are here for your wand. Perfect. But who is this?" He was looking at James, who seemed weirded out by this strange man.

"I'm James Lakeson, Harry's Guardian," he said, putting a hand over Harry's shoulders. His gaze looked almost possessive.

"How curious." Then the man snapped to attention. "My name is Ollivander, and I am going to find you a wand, Mr. Potter."

"What is your dominant hand?" He asked, snapping his fingers. The twisting form of a tape measurer floated into view, appearing from on top of the desk. It made its way to Harry, writhing in the air.

"Um- right."

The measurer flew over his body, stretching out over every piece of him. It was completely supported on the air, just twisting around.

"Here." Ollivander was back, pressing something into Harry's hand that he didn't quite remember sticking out. "Try this one; cherry wood, 7 and ½ inches, unicorn tail."

It was a thin piece of dark red wood, short and with curling designs up and down it. Harry kind of jabbed it forward, like Professor Sprout had, and was rewarded when a layer of dust on the shelf caught fire.

Harry yelped, dropping the wand. The flames went out instantly.

"Not unicorn tail. Maybe phoenix feather," Ollivander muttered, speeding back behind the shelf. He reappeared seconds later with another wand in his hand, this one a light brown with a thick handle.

"Hornbeam wood, 14 inches, phoenix tail feather. A bit flexible." Harry grabbed onto this one, waving it around. Nothing happened but the man grabbed it from Harry all the same.

"Not phoenix either-"

"Um, Mr. Ollivander?" Harry interrupted, curiosity hitting him like a wave. "What do you mean, unicorn and phoenix? Like the creatures?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter," the man said, stopping his movements. "I make wands with three different cores; unicorn hair, phoenix feathers, and dragon heartstring. I surround them in different woods, and that creates a wand for a wizard or a witch to use."

"What about other creatures? Why those?"

"Well, dragons, unicorns, and phoenixes are the most magical beings in the world. They have so much magic inside of them that I am able to use their feathers, hair, and heartstrings to create wands that wizards can channel their core through. Certain wizards are more able to work with phoenix feathers while others can only use unicorn hairs. It's different across every person."

"That's interesting," Harry nodded, and with that Ollivander moved back off to the store.

And so began the hour of wand testing.

The man would bring out a new wand and Harry would wave it. Sometimes things would happen or nothing at all, but still the wand was taken away from him before he could do anything else. James had already moved to one of the chairs by the dusty window, and Professor Sprout had been there before Harry had tested his first wand.

Harry was getting tired, at least until Ollivander handed him a piece of wood.

"12 and ½ inches, manchineel wood. A dragon heartstring."

Harry grabbed onto it and was stunned as something hit him right in the chest. His own magic, the wave that had built up in him when he changed the flower, seemed to flow into his fingers and into the wand. Wind picked up around him, lifting up his hair and shifting his glasses. A burst of dark blue sparks exploded from the end, shining in the air.

Ollivander clapped his hands together, delighted. "What a show, Mr. Potter! This wand is a perfect match." He looked at the boy. "I can give you some more details about the wand, if you wish."

"Yes, please," Harry said, a bit heady from the rush of magic - because that was what he assumed it to be.

"Manchineel wood is very hard to work with, as nearly every part of the tree is poisonous." Harry's head shot up at that, and Ollivander grinned. "Yes. That is what the design is of; the wood had to be burned to purge the poison from it. It's core is from a Peruvian Vipertooth, a rather venomous dragon. Its length and rigidity shows a determined wizard who has a lot of willpower to do what he likes."

Ollivander leveled a look at Harry. "I feel you will do much with this wand, Mr. Potter."

* * *

 **Yay! Another chapter! I have to rush because I have to leave soon.**

 **Sorry, I wasn't able to post until now; I was visiting my grandma. But I hoped you enjoyed this chapter!**

 **I swear, when I was writing my outline, I didn't plan for the goblin vault to last 3-4 pages. It was supposed to be** _ **one**_ **, I swear.**

 **But still. Hope you enjoy.**

 **Foxglove will be revealed next chapter! Submit now for the final stretch!**

 **Please read and review!**

 **Frost OUT!**


	12. Trunks and Terrariums

Harry hummed as he flipped the wand around in his hand.

It was long, slightly over a foot. 12 and ½ inches, to be precise. Harry dearly hoped that having a long wand would mean he would grow taller; it was annoying to have his head be James' perfect arm-resting height. Somehow, he doubted it.

It was a dark crimson, like cherry wood but more brown. But marring nearly the entire length of it were charcoal black stains. The fire that had burned out the poison showed clearly on the wand. The marks flickered in places like the flames hadn't completely covered the wand. But the handle was completely gray-black, and Harry avoided touching the red parts too much.

He knew about the manchineel tree; it was the most poisonous tree in the world! That had been one of James' first lessons, though, and he would have to review a book or two to find all of the facts. He remembered that every part of the tree was dangerous, but Ollivander had already told him that. He was curious to see if he could make magical poisons now.

Peruvian Vipertooth, however; a completely new dragon and the only thing was that it was a 'rather venomous dragon'. But as he eyed the bookstore across the alley, Harry knew it was only a matter of time until he found what he was looking for.

It's length and rigidity? So Harry was determined, but he already knew that. To survive the powerful urges venenamania brought, any would _have_ to be strong and determined.

Harry grinned. He might be a bit ahead of the curve already.

But now his feet carried him after Professor Sprout, following her like a duckling to the bookstore. It read, in wild, looping letters, _Flourish and Blotts_.

Flourish indeed. The penmanship looked like a person who had tried too hard with their signature.

There was a large glass window that Harry went straight for. It had several stacks of books lined up on it, bright covers with _moving pictures_! There was one with a wand on the front, and every few seconds the wand would have tiny gold sparks shoot out of the tip. But on a book cover! Harry repeatedly slapped James until the man looked over and saw the cover. They both gaped at it.

"Ah yes." Professor Sprout came in between them, smiling at the book. "We have found that when pictures are made with paper soaked in a certain potion, they can move."

"How do they do that? Do they just repeat the same motions?" Harry asked, putting a hand against the glass. There were more books behind, all with moving pictures. He caught sight of a dragon, roaring fire and pacing up and down the cover. Another was of a broom with clouds flying behind it.

"No. Instead, the potion seemingly 'copies' their personality from examining their posture. In simpler words, it embeds the picture with a minor form of sentience. The wand could lie still, but right now it _wants_ to shoot out sparks. If I were to take a picture of you right now, it would copy your emotions that you feel in this moment and put those into the picture. Then there are wizarding portraits, but those are much more complicated." She smiled at them. "You can ask one when we are at Hogwarts."

"Wait. _Ask_ -" But already Professor Sprout was moving, heading past Flourish and Blotts. Harry frowned and sped to catch up with her, James using his long legs to beat him by a mile.

"Weren't were going in there?" He asked.

She looked at him. "Well, we could. But lugging around stacks of books isn't very practical, so we are going to pick up your trunk first."

"A trunk," Harry repeated back to her. He clutched his money bag to his chest, looking up at James. "Do you think they'll just let me bring my school bag? Seems easier."

"A trunk is for storing your books, clothes, and other supplies in your room. There are bags you can buy to carry around books or paper while you're moving around, of course."

Harry shot her a look. "I'll just bring my school bag, thanks."

They headed towards a large shop with two cheery torches on either side. It was a rich red color, painted on large bricks. It had a large window, and on a plump green pillow, there was a large brown trunk that gleamed with polish. It had silver clasps and a large plaque on the top.

"That's really big," Harry commented. "Am I expected to lug that around all the time?"

Professor Sprout shook her head. "These stay in your dorms for the year. They can be a bit of a pain but they store all of your books and clothes easily."

And with that, Harry and James marched into _Trina's Trunks_.

It was blissfully warm in there, with the heavy smell of burning wood. It smelled nice, like a campfire or a fireplace. Harry grinned and looked around.

It was a small entrance room, but Harry saw open doorways that led to other rooms. The walls of this room were manned by enormous shelves, stacked high with trunks. There were black ones, brown ones, even some bleached blonde woods. There were also scaly looking ones, ones with a distinct glimmer over them, or with strange patterns or bright silver and gold shapes over them.

Very close to the door, there was a large shelf. It was stacked nearly up to the ceiling with similar looking, light brown trunks with no special colors or shapes. Across the top of the shelf, a plaque displayed _Hogwarts Trunks_.

A man emerged from one of the back rooms. He had brilliant waves of brown hair that were securely tied on the nape of his neck in a ponytail, but loose curls bounced around his face. He had a tan face with bright brown eyes and a wide smile on his face.

"Welcome!" He rubbed his hands together, looking over at Harry. "Here for a Hogwarts trunk?"

"Yes, sir." Harry nodded, feeling a bit out with his energetic man.

He laughed. "Sir! Haven't heard that in a while. Well! Let me show you the options we have here."

He gestured for them to go over to the Hogwarts Trunk shelf. He pointed to a large brown one on bottom.

"This is the average Hogwarts trunk. It costs around 60 Galleons. While that may seem expensive, this trunk will last you beyond your seven years of Hogwarts, so it's well worth it. It is magically expanded on the inside to have double the space inside, and has a weather-resistant charm on it that helps protect it from heat and cold. It might not survive a blazing fire but it can certainly do well in normal situations."

The man grinned at them. "But, if you want to spend only a few more Galleons, we have a special feature." He pointed to a trunk that looked exactly the same, only a few shelves up. "These trunks have a feather-light charm on them, so that it's not impossible to lug around everywhere. They cost five more Galleons, but it's much easier than trying to haul around all of your books and clothes."

"Couldn't I just cast the spell? Wouldn't that be easier?" Harry asked, looking over the trunks. They were pretty, made of some light brown wood with a light grain. They didn't shine as much as the others but they did have a nice finish.

"Well, you could. But the spell would only last a certain while and would drain on your magic. But these trunks were imbedded with the spell while they were created, so the charm lasts as long as the trunk is intact, so you never have to cast it on these trunks." He grinned at Harry. "That's a good deal right there."

"You're right. So this trunk will never grow any heavier?"

"Better. This trunk would normally weigh around 30 to 40 pounds, but since it was created with the spell it will only ever weigh as much as a feather. It's a wonderful deal, and for only five more Galleons!"

"I'll take it. How much is it?" Harry said. James nodded in the background, looking over the trunk.

"That would be 65 Galleons, _sir_ ," the man teased lightly, and Harry found himself laughing as he pulled open his moleskine bag. He reached inside, feeling cold circles bounce over his hand. He carefully pulled out a handful, staring around for a second. He caught sight of a counter and headed towards it.

He started to put coins on it five at a time, counting out until he had 65. "Here you go."

"Thank you." The man said, leaning behind the desk. He pulled out a moleskine bag as well, this one emblazoned with _TT_ on it. He swept the coins into the bag, safely dropping it into a drawer when they were all inside.

He walked over to the trunk rack, pulling one out from the middle shelf. He carefully balanced it on one hand, drawing out a thin piece of wood from his pocket with the other. He slashed his wand through the air, and Harry heard a distinct 'ping'.

"What was that?" He asked, looking at the trunk.

"Anti-theft ward. I was just canceling it." The man maneuvered the trunk over to Harry, putting it in his outstretched hands.

"Thank you," Harry said, accepting the trunk. It was large and bulky, and he had to grip it with both hands. But the man was right; if it wasn't for its size, Harry wouldn't have noticed he was carrying it.

The man grinned. "Pleasure."

They walked out of the store, and then Professor Sprout looked at him. "I feel that you want to go and get all of your books, am I right?" At Harry's eager nod, she continued. "Then let me go grab your cauldron, potion supplies, telescope, and other things and you can just go to Flourish and Blotts. I feel that you might just be a Ravenclaw," she teased him lightly.

The joke went far over Harry's head, but still, he nodded. He wanted to get as many books as his money would let him.

The professor held out her hand, and Harry carefully put his moleskine in it. "I'll bring it back when I have all of your stuff. You just go pick out your books." She flicked her wrist and her wand shot into her hand. She swished it sideways and then flicked it up, and Harry's trunk started to float up in the air, hovering without any help. "I'll take this as well."

Harry nodded, and James was already moving. His long legs ate up the space in between him and the bright store. Harry yelped and sped after him, a laugh building up in his throat.

The store was large and a cheery yellow-brown. It had a large door that was already open from a pair of kids walking out. Harry darted inside, eyes wide.

Books. Everywhere.

There were shelves like those at a library, stretching back into the farthest corner of the room. Along every available surface, there were books, books, _books_.

"Hey, Harry?" James said, snapping Harry out of his thoughts. He looked up at the tall man.

"Yeah?"

James gestured with his shoulder to one side. "I see a sign that says 'Hogwarts - First Years'. Want me to grab those and you can look for extra books?" He shot a wink at Harry. "There's a section over there called magical beasts."

Harry's eyes widened and he nodded hurriedly, moving towards the section. He ignored James' laugh and starting scanning the titles on the shelves. He couldn't believe how many books there were; it seemed like the Library of Congress had decided to deliver in here.

One book caught his attention. _Dangerous Beasts of the Wizarding World_. Harry grinned and slowly drew the rather thick book from its shelf.

It had a large leopard on the cover, one with a large frill over its neck. It roared at him, brown-gray fur bristling. But there wasn't any sound. The giant cat paced on the cover, fangs bared. Harry laughed. He loved magic.

He flipped it open to the table of contents. He gasped. Over a _hundred_ different chapters and this was only the first page! He flipped the page over and saw even more names.

 _Thestral._

 _Cerberus._

 _Hippogriff._

Harry desperately wanted to just flip through all of them, research every creature in this world. But instead, he flipped the book close, letting the cat on the front growl silently at him again.

His eyes scanned over the room again. There were giant signs everywhere, and he saw the one above his head that said, _Magical Creatures_. His gaze flicked over all of the other ones in the room, searching for something. Maybe a nice little section called _Magical Poisons_.

In bright letters, he saw a section called _Herbology_. It was bigger than his section but not by much, but Harry still sped towards it. There was a boy already in the section, looking over books on the higher shelves. He looked at Harry.

He was only a bit taller than Harry, which meant he was rather short. He had flat brown hair that curled slightly at the ends. His eyes were a light brown and large for his face. He had a thin book clenched in his hands and was already wearing thick black robes.

"Hullo," Harry said. He scanned the books.

"Hi. I'm Neville Longbottom," the boy said back. He waited a second in awkward silence before he spoke again. "Do you like Herbology?"  
"Yeah. I want to find more dangerous plants, but I can't find a book yet." Harry winced. His voice was dull, simpering slightly at the end. It sounded as if he was Aunt Petunia gossiping about the newest piece of information to her neighbors.

"Sorry about that. I'm Harry," he said, sticking his hand out. Neville stared at it for a second before he shook it, a smile gracing his lips.

"What do you mean, more dangerous plants?" Neville asked, slight excitement on his face. "I can help you find anything. I haven't gone to Hogwarts yet but I'm really excited for Herbology."

"Me too," Harry said back. "I can't wait to see all of the magical plants." He paused. "I like to… learn about poisons and stuff, and I've heard that there's some magical ones?" Harry added a lift in his voice at the end, hoping that he just sounded curious instead of creepy. Thankfully, Neville seemed to understand him, though he gave him a slightly confused look.

"I know what you need." He looked over the shelves, brow furrowed in concentration. Then he snapped his fingers, leaning down. His fingers tapped along the spines of books before he grabbed one out.

It was a thin book, yet it was rather long. It had a bottle green cover with a brilliant sun in one corner. On the middle of the cover, there was a blue-green plant whose long stems twisting around. It looked like cat-grass but _alive_ ; the plant writhed and moved like tentacles. Harry stared in unabashed shock.

The cover said _Poison Plants_ in dark gold letters, partially hidden in the corner. Harry reached out to take it, eyes scanning over every part.

"Thank you," he said to Neville.

"Do you want to meet up on the train?" Suddenly Neville's eyes went wide. "You _are_ a first year, right?" A slight blush spread over his cheeks. "You aren't a second year, right?"

Harry chuckled softly. "No, I'm a first year. Since I'm shorter than you, it makes sense."

Neville grinned back at him, but his ears were a bit pink.

"Harry?" A voice floated into his ears. It was James, who poked his head into the row. "Professor Sprout is here. Got everything?"

"Yeah," he called back. He tucked _Poison Plants_ closer to his chest along with the other book and started to head back. He turned his head around and grinned at Neville. "I'll see you on the- train, was it?"

The boy nodded and smiled back.

"What'd you get?" Harry held out the two books, the cat snarling at James.

"Whoa!" James grinned and leaned closer to the book. "Wouldn't that be a cool cat to meet?"

Harry smiled and nodded. James put a hand on his shoulder and steered him towards the counter, which was close to the door. There was a man there, helping out two people in front of him. Harry walked up to the line when something caught his attention across the street.

It was a store, one that was rather small compared to the ones surrounding it. It had a light brown paint and a large blue door. But what caught his gaze were the words scrawled across the top. _Merlin Gardens_.

"I'll be right back," Harry said, rather distractedly. James shot him a confused look before he followed his gaze.

"Ah." He handed him the money bag, dipping his hand in and grabbing a handful of Galleons. "Go check it out. Tell me if you buy anything."

Harry nodded, moving out of the line. Professor Sprout gave him a look over before she simply walked towards the line, Harry's trunk floating behind her.

Harry crossed the street, heading towards the store. He pushed open the blue door, staring around at the room.

He was stunned.

It was like any of the other stores. Instead of shelves, there were tables everywhere over the room. There was very little moving space, yet still, Harry could see a clear path to the back of the store with a bit of squeezing. All over the tables there were glass containers.

Made of a shiny glass, there were a multitude of shapes. There were domes, circles, rectangles, squares; all shapes made of glass. They were displayed over the tables and each had a little paper on them, with a small number on them.

But what was inside the glass containers were plants.

Blue flowers, softly swaying vines in a room with no wind, electric blue moss; plants dominated all of the containers.

"Hello, dear!" A voice exclaimed. A woman stepped into his view from behind the counter. She had black hair that tumbled down to her waist like a waterfall, with bright brown eyes that glinted like tiger's eye.

"Looking or shopping?" She asked.

"What are these?" Harry said, stepping up to one. The green and purple flowers inside disappeared when his shadow passed over them, retreating inside their buds. He grinned in awe and wonder, looking over the plants buzzing with magic.

"These are Terrariums. They are glass containers that come in any size - we can do custom orders, dear - that are like a living garden! They can hold plants inside of them, with free dirt. They can be spelled to recreate any climate with simple taps of your wand! They can create storms, rain, wind, any circumstances to make your plants thrive! They also can be shrunken to fit inside your pocket, and the plants are located within a sort of 'pocket' that allows them to keep growing! Perfect for any growing Herbologist."

The woman said this in about two breaths, but Harry got the gist of it. A glass box that could grow plants, even when it was shrunken in his pocket.

Harry grinned. "How much?"

* * *

 **Yay! Another chapter!**

 **So this one was a little rushed, but I hope I still got the gist across. Harry gets trunk, Harry gets books, Harry meets Neville, Harry gets Terrarium.**

 **So the terrarium might seem a little OP, but I feel that it makes sense in our world. If Moody can have a seven layer trunk with an entire pit inside of it, Harry can have a movable garden. These things even exist in real life, just without the whole shrinking part.**

 **So Neville's in here! I hope you like him; it's rather hard to write him.**

 **Also, sorry about Fox, but she's revealed next chapter. Again, this chapter dragged on too long and I wasn't done yet.**

 **Sorry about that!**

 **Please read and review!**

 **Frost OUT!**


	13. Famous Schamous

"Two hundred Galleons!" Harry yelped.

"Well, yes." The woman frowned slightly at him before a grin snapped its way back onto her face. "That is, however, for our best seller. For our smallest size, it is only 90 Galleons." She looked over him with a critical eye. "What are you looking for?"

Harry looked around the room, eyes wide. He zeroed in on the smallest size, which was on the other side of the room. He wandered over to it, dodging past other tables covered in the glass shapes. He saw squares, circles, ovals, stars; every shape he could think of was there. The woman following right behind him, her heels hitting the tiles on the floor.

Harry stopped in front of a table in the back. The table went a bit higher than his chest, but he could still see it. He hated being short.

It was quite small, at least when compared to the ones around it. The glass was bright and shiny, and Harry idly wondered whether it was as smooth as it looked. The Terrarium was about a meter across and was in the shape of a circle, perfectly round. There was a thin layer of dirt inside, only about an inch or two high. The entire height was around a third of a meter high, which left him with the perfect reaching height.

Harry turned around, the woman still right behind him. "How do I shrink it?" He asked, hand on his wand. The woman pursed her lips, eyes narrowed. Harry remembered she had told him exactly how to do so.

"You tap it three times with your wand," she said finally, her smile firmly back in place. She gestured to the shape with her wand. "Do you want me to show you?"

Harry blushed bright red and pulled out his wand. He reached forward, before softly tapping the tip of it against the glass side closest to him three times.

On the third time, a swirl of light enveloped the container. Harry yelped, jumping backward. Then, with a sort of 'pop' sound, the Terrarium shrunk down to a miniature size.

Harry stared. The entire glass thing was around the size of his palm, only an inch high. The entire thing was roughly in the same circular shape, but Harry couldn't see the dirt or anything else. It was just glass.

"Where does the dirt go? To the same 'pocket' as the flowers?" He asked her, still marveling over the Terrarium. He picked it up, and was amazed when it only weighed about as much as a tennis ball. Harry grinned.

"Yes. Every Terrarium has a pocket dimension attached to it, and that's where the plants and dirt go. They are rather easy to set up, but only for those who have studied for years and know how to do it properly." She leveled a strong look at him. "So don't even try until you've gotten your NEWTs in Ancient Runes, mister."

Harry nodded. Ancient Runes would be a definite must to study. To create more pocket dimensions… That was all the magic he needed!

"90 Galleons, right?" He asked, sighing. Harry paused, thinking back. "But that's nearly as much as a trunk! Actually, it's more!"

The woman frowned as she looked over him, and Harry got the idea that he was testing her patience. "While Hogwarts trunks are good for storing things, they cannot support life unless you get ones that are well over a thousand Galleons. This Terrariums last forever and can support life."

Harry grinned sheepishly. "Okay. I'll just get my money out."

The woman finally smiled and started to walk over to the counter. She flicked her wand and the Terrarium floated into the air, obediently hovering behind her. She set it down on the counter, going behind it.

Harry pulled out his moleskine, peering inside of it. He trotted hurriedly over to the counter, dodging tables and Terrariums alike. He arrived at the counter, sticking his arm into the bag.

His fingers landed on cold Galleons, and he started to pull them out by the handful. They came out like a literal storm, falling onto the counter. The woman flicked her wand again and the Galleons organized themselves in piles of ten. There were eight on the table. Harry reached inside and dragged up the last few Galleons he had. He put them on the table.

97 Galleons in total.

"Oh, thank God," Harry sighed. He grabbed the last seven Galleons and stuffed them back into his bag. He grinned up at the woman. "I'll take it."

* * *

Harry Potter sighed.

He was staring up at King's Cross, a horrible, loud place filled with hundreds of people getting on and leaving trains everywhere. James was by his side, brow lowered in confusion.

He held up the ticket he had gotten. It was pretty, a nice light gold with the number _9 ¾_ written over it. But there wasn't a station with that number.

Oh, how Harry hated wizards.

But his hate was not unfounded. Professor Sprout had pulled him and James aside after they had finished shopping when Harry's eyes were still bright and excited from Diagon Alley. The Guardianship was a beautiful thing, giving James control over Harry's vault and letting James take care of him while he was still underage.

But James was only his _magical_ Guardian.

Over the summer, when Harry was not permitted to be around magic and he was going 'muggle', the Dursley's were his Guardians. They housed him, paid for him, and controlled all of his muggle things. He would not be free of them until he was of age, because James couldn't be both his magical and muggle Guardian.

Oh, Harry hated wizards and their stupid archaic rules.

He had come back to the Dursley's after that day, where Uncle Vernon had fixed him with an evil eye but let him be. Every day they had checked the mail, searching for something. But when no other Hogwarts letters arrived, they had slowly grown more and more relaxed. Harry had left on September 1st to go to James' without a single word to them, desperately wishing that he knew of some magic that could let him see their faces when he didn't come back.

He had asked James to tell him all about it.

His wand was in his pocket, where he had reflexively pulled it out again and again to check on it. His trunk, with all of his supplies, was in James' hands, who had quickly picked it up after he had seen what Harry was doing it. His Terrarium was tucked in his pocket, three different plant springs planted in it. There was Foxglove, a small little bunch of it that he had plucked off of the large plant. A tiny sprig of stinging nettle, because it was the perfect thing to prank people with. And then there was a rather large bush of nightshade in there. There was plenty of room for it to grow, or for more plants to be introduced. Harry rather hoped it was the later.

James huffed, setting the trunk down on the ground. He narrowly avoided Fox, who looked up at him and hissed. The cat had stopped growing, mostly. She was up to Harry's knees by now, and her gray fur was even thinner. Her brilliant yellow eyes flicked around the train station.

Harry knew, from Professor Sprout's warning, that only one pet was allowed at Hogwarts. A cat, an owl, or a toad. Foxglove easily fit the cat requirement, but Abrin was a different story. He was a snake and he was another pet, which broke two rules. But Harry loved that Adder and he was taking Abrin to Hogwarts, hidden or not.

Abrin was tucked into Harry's robes. There was an option for a large pocket on the Hogwarts robes, and Harry had instantly taken it. Abrin could, with a bit of discomfort, worm himself into the bag and poke his head out. He had hissed complaints up to Harry for the entire day, at least until Harry had snuck a bit of meat down to him.

He had stopped talking then.

James groaned, before looking around. "We have to find the pillar between section 9 and 10, Harry." He held up the ticket. "If what I'm reading on here is correct." James squinted before sighing. "If only the Sprout woman had done more than just _wink_ …"

Harry looked over the crowd, but the most he could see was faces and hair. But James, the towering person that he was, called out to Harry. He looked up to see James' grinning face as he pointed to something in the distance. He knelt, scooping up Harry's trunk before he was off.

Harry yelped and sped after him, Foxglove right on his heels. Abrin hissed at the sudden movement.

People grunted and scowled at him as Harry shoved his way through the crowd, eyes fixed on James. But eventually, he made his way to the still man.

"Here we are, Harry." James grinned at him, still holding onto the thick trunk. His smile grew slightly strained.

"Stay safe, you understand? I don't want a call saying how you poisoned the Headmaster or anything." They both shared a grin before James knelt, scooping Harry up in a tight hug.

"I will," Harry choked out, tears blurring his vision. This was _James_ , whom he was about to leave behind. He was leaving _his_ behind and he did _not_ enjoy it. "I'll be safe."

James grinned at him. "Reck some havoc for me, will you?"

He looked back to the ticket, passing the trunk to Harry, who grunted at the size. He marveled at the weight, which was even less than his Terrarium. Oh, Harry was perfectly okay with hating wizards but he adored magic.

"You have to run at the pillar to get through it." James' brow furrowed. "Any person without magic of their own cannot pass through it." James scowled at the ticket. "Awfully rude, they are."

Harry smiled, hefting his trunk up. Foxglove meowed at him. James looked over at him before reaching into one of his pockets. He pulled out a plastic bag which was lumpy around the bottom.

"Take this, okay? I want you to show me magic when you get back and this should be fun to play with." He winked at Harry. "Wait until later to open it, okay?"

Harry nodded, reaching forward to take it. He stuffed it into the pocket with Abrin, who hissed and squirmed away from the crinkling plastic. James smiled at him, eyes bright. "Go for it!" He all but shouted, shoving Harry towards the pillar.

Harry took a deep breath, half of him wanting to turn around and just bolt back to James, stay with him and never leave. But, with a bracing of his feet, he ran straight towards the pillar.

Only to pass right through it like it wasn't even there.

He stared as the bright red bricks seemed to flow right through him, passing through his hands and chest like air. Foxglove pressed her tail against his legs, meowing.

And then they were through, fully passed through the pillar. And they were in a completely new world.

There were still hordes of people everywhere, but these people were wearing the thick robes of wizards. Trunks were supported on trolleys everywhere, owls screeching from overhead. Cats meowed and children cried out, all in one giant mess of chaos. Off to one side, a brilliant scarlet train stood proudly, sides gleaming like a thousand suns. Wizards and witches went onto the train, lugging trunks and cages and everything else imaginable.

Harry could only stare. And then someone else came out from the pillar and Harry was shot forward, into the crowd and towards the train. He grunted, the trunk still bulky in his arms, but let the people on all sides of him push him towards an open entrance on the train.

He clambered on, holding his trunk above his head. He finished getting on and looked around. Harry was in a hallway, one lined with rows of doors. Some were closed, some were open, the doors made of a cloudy glass and quite wide. Harry walked forward, selecting a door only two down from where he had gotten on.

A grey shape appeared by his side, and Harry grinned. Foxglove batted the door with her paw before walking in, looking at the tan pillows on the four seats. She paused before jumping up on the one closest to the window, curling up into a ball.

Harry walked in after her staring around. There were wire racks above each of the seats, and Harry was quick to push his trunk up there. His robes swished around him, strange and uncomfortable. He had changed before coming, not quite ready to change in the train. Though he had gotten many strange looks from people in the streets, he was quite happy with his decision.

He sat down next to Fox, one hand instantly falling behind her ears and scratching it. She purred happily, chest vibrating. But he could hardly hear her over the roar of people outside of their compartment.

Harry frowned and stood up, Fox following him with her eyes. He strode over to the door and found a small switch on one side. He flicked it up and watched as the door began to slide shut, finishing its journey with a _bang_ on the other side. Harry grinned.

That was cool.

He paused looking around the room. The ticket had said that Hogwarts was in the highlands of Scotland, and that was very, very far away from London. He might want something to do.

Harry walked over to the wire racks, reaching up and pulling his trunk off of its place. He popped open the top, looking inside. He had his extra robes taking up a quarter of the available space, with his books taking up a third. He had had barely any room for his potion supplies, telescope, or quills. But he had made it work when Professor Sprout had offered to shrink his scales and telescopes.

Harry reached inside and pulled out a bottle green plant with the gold lettering of _Poisonous Plants_ scrawled across the top. He had been particularly excited to read this after he had gotten his Terrarium, but hadn't had the time. But on a trip from London to Scotland, he had plenty. He grinned and headed back to his seat.

But he had only flipped to the second page when there was a loud knock on the door. Harry groaned and kept reading, but the knock came again. With a scowl he stood up and walked over to the switch, flipping it up again.

Neville Longbottom stood there, looking pale. His brown hair, however, was neatly patted down on his head and he also had his robes on. He was lugging his trunk behind him, which did not look to have the feather-light charm on it.

"Neville!" Harry said, eyes wide. They had agreed to meet on the train, he remembered that know. And this boy had helped him find one of his books.

He leaned forward to help him. With both of them working together, they were able to boost the heavy trunk up into one of the wire racks. Harry carefully flipped the switch back up, watching the door slide shut and cut off all of the sounds again.

"Harry," Neville began, but Harry pointed towards a seat on the other side. Neville blushed but sat down, staring at Harry. But again he was interrupted when Fox sat up, peering at him. She licked her paw, yellow eyes fixed on his.

"Oh!" He exclaimed. "Did you buy yourself a kneazle?" Neville asked, looking closer. He pointed to the white tuft of fur on her tail. "That's a near dead-giveaway." Then he frowned. "But I've never seen one so big. What is she?"

"Um…" Harry paused, looking over at Fox. "You're magical?"

The cat seemed to look up at him almost smugly before she curled up in a ball, her tail flicking over her side.

"Huh." Harry looked back up at Neville. "I have no idea. I've had her since she was a kitten."

Neville hummed. "That's strange. Kneazles are very protective of their own, and most have to be bought a year or two after birth because that's the first time that their mothers will actually let them out of their sight. I've never heard of one being sold as a kitten." Then he blushed.

"I didn't mean to ask you about all of that, sorry."

Harry waved him off. "Thanks for it, actually. I didn't know anything like that. That's really cool; I had a magical cat before I even knew what magic was!"

Neville cocked his head to one side. "You're a muggleborn?"

"Halfblood, I think. My parents were killed a bit after I was born, but I think they were both magical." Harry tilted his head, thinking about what Professor Sprout had told him after shopping.  
"Yeah, one was a pureblood and the other was a muggleborn."

Neville stilled. "Wait, your name is Harry, right?" At Harry's nod, his eyes widened. "And you're a halfblood with a muggleborn and a pureblood parent! You're Harry Potter, aren't you?"

Harry stiffened.

 _What the actual heck_.

Harry saw nothing else to do, so he nodded with a scowl on his face. "Is this what it's like to be famous?" Fox, as if sensing his annoyance, growled softly.

Neville blushed hurriedly and started to speak. "I'm sorry, but I didn't know it was you! Harry Potter!" His face flamed even brighter. "Sorry."

Harry laughed, ire fading. "S'alright. I guess I better get used to it; we're going to a school where they announce my name over everything."

They sat in a rather awkward silence until Neville spoke up again.

"Friends?" Neville asked, tone still hesitant.

Harry grinned back at him. "Friends."

Harry grabbed his book before he felt a lump on his robes. It twitched under his touch, Abrin hissing annoyedly up at him. Harry grinned before he heard the crinkling of plastic.

James' package.

He dug it out of his robes, the material loud. Neville peered curiously at it, but dropped it when Harry said distractedly "Muggle bag." Harry pried it open, reaching inside. A plant? Seeds?

Instead, he grabbed onto a glass bottle.

It was small, around the size of a golf ball. It had a black cap about a finger's length long and was full of a bright green-white liquid. There was a label, and Harry easily flipped it over to read it.

 _Glow-in-the-dark Nail Polish_!

A short letter fluttered out of the bag in James' handwriting.

 _Reck some havoc for me, will you_?

* * *

 **Another chapter! Yay!**

 **Sorry for the kind of long wait, but I had an audition. I didn't get in :(**

 **Anyway, when I was sulking, I decided to write this up! I hope you guys enjoy! I liked writing it though it did drag somewhere around the middle.**

 **Harry hangs out with Neville, buys a Terrarium, and gets something from James - not in that order. I hope you like how Harry isn't completely free from the Dursley's but is partially, especcially in the magical world.**

 **And now half of Fox is revealed! I did decide to go with the masses and make Fox half-Kneazle because it just** _ **did**_ **make sense. But, believe me, the other half of her is going to be something I can have fun with :)**

 **So anyway! Please read and review!**

 **Frost OUT!**


	14. Train Ride

It had taken Neville all of three seconds to spot Harry's _Poisonous Plants_ book on a seat.

It had taken him only three more to start up a conversation about them.

Harry hadn't read much past the first page, which was hardly more than tables of contents. He knew that there were magical plants - the moving blue-green stems on the front cover were proof enough - but didn't know any specifics. But as it turned out, Neville was just as knowledgeable in 'muggle' plants as he was with magical, and so while it took them a few minutes to find a common ground, they were quickly talking about plants. Neville was a bit confused about how Harry only knew about plants that were at least partially poisonous, but he was nice and didn't say anything about it. They were having a wonderful conversation about oleander when Harry remembered what was in his pocket.

"Hey! I forgot about this." Harry looked around the compartment mentally sizing it up. Each of the seats were around half a meter wide and there was another half-meter walkway, so there was plenty of room.

Harry pulled out his Terrarium, ignoring Neville's widening eyes. He set it out on his palm, the slight weight barely anything. Pulling out his wand from his pocket, he tapped it three times against the side of the glass.

With a flash of light and another loud _pop_ , the Terrarium expanded into full size. The glass gleamed like it had just been polished, but the weight made Harry quickly set it down on the two seats, though the middle was unsupported.

"Wow! A Terrarium!" Neville said, eyes wide. He looked up at Harry. "I kind of wanted to bring mine, but I thought since there are greenhouses at Hogwarts I wouldn't need it." He shot Harry a curious look. "Why'd you bring yours?"

"Er- I wanted to take care of my own plants, and maybe get some more, you know."

Neville's brows lowered. "But there's no way you could get new plants at Hogwarts. The only plants they have there are the ones in the greenhouses." His eyes widened.

"You're going to _steal_?" He demanded, his shyness apparently having been thrown out of the window. "From _Hogwarts_?"

Harry froze. "No! I just- no, I just want to take care of them. I don't - er - trust my Guardian to not kill them."

Neville fixed him with a powerful stare, but seemingly dropped the topic. Harry took that moment to shrink his Terrarium by tapping it thrice with his wand. It was slipping into his pocket next to Abrin and his nail polish faster than Neville could blink. Harry gave Neville a sheepish grin and hurriedly cast around for a topic. His gaze landed on his book. "What do you know about Herbology?"

Herbology, as Harry learned, was the study of plants, magical or not. There were 7 greenhouses, and the first was used by the first years and the second was used by the second years, and so on. He knew that Professor Sprout taught that class, and Neville was quick to prove him correct. Neville was more than happy to talk about what he knew. His eyes were bright and his hands gestured wildly, and he looked the happiest Harry had ever seen. Herbology seemed to be what Neville was most passionate about, and it was easy to tell. Harry was quickly becoming happy to be friends with Neville, and he couldn't wait until the first Herbology class. If this was only what Neville knew, as a fellow first year, then what Professor Sprout knew would be amazing.

But, eventually, their conversation slipped into Hogwarts itself.

"So, Harry, which House do you think you're going to be?" Neville asked, cocking his head to one side. The glow on his face from talking about Herbology had faded, and his hands had settled back in his lap. But he still looked more alive and awake than he had when Harry had met him at Flourish and Blotts.

Harry bit his tongue, thinking. "I don't really know. I mean, Professor Sprout didn't really tell me much about it, but I think I know a little bit. I think I'd like either Raventalon or whatever - reading's always been fun for me." Harry paused. "But Professor Sprout didn't tell us how we're sorted, so maybe we don't get to pick? I don't really know."

Neville nodded. "It's a school secret - older siblings aren't allowed to tell and the professors never do, so I think they like to watch us first years struggle." A grin slid its way onto his face. "Let's try not to make it too entertaining."

"Probably." Harry laughed. "It makes a lot of sense." Harry peered at Neville, eyes curious. "What House do you want?"

Neville's face dropped slightly, shoulders hunching in. "Probably Hufflepuff. My parents were both Gryffindors but I'm too weak to get into that House."

Harry's eye widened. "Oh, Neville, I didn't even think of that! Our Head of House would then be the Herbology professor! What tips do you think she would tell us?"

"Oh." Neville paused, eyes wide. "I didn't think of that. Do you think that she might have plants in the common room?"

Harry grinned. "I bet she does. We might even have access to the bigger greenhouses; like 3 or 4 or something. Can you imagine that?"

Neville smiled right back, a bit more of the passion flitting back into his eyes. "I can. Do you think they might even guard the entrance?"

Harry had only opened his mouth to talk when the compartment door started to click open.

Harry's head whipped over to stare at the newcomer, bright green eyes searching. Neville turned as well, and Fox hissed softly, standing up. The cloudy glass door _snicked_ shut on the other side, showing off a boy standing there.

The boy was definitely taller than either of them and was rather disproportionate, tall and lanky with large feet. His hair was the brightest red Harry had ever seen; it seemed to shine the sun all on its own. His eyes were a brilliant blue, outlined with a splattering of freckles. He looked rather embarrassed, cheeks a light pink that clashed with his hair.

Face flaming brighter, he asked, "Er - can I sit here?"

Harry shot a look at Neville, who simply shrugged his shoulders and looked back at his lap. The light in his eyes had disappeared again.

"Yeah - er - sure you can," Harry said. He looked wildly around before pointing at the seat next to him.

The boy nodded, relieved, before reaching behind him. With an apparent ease, he lifted a rather shoddy trunk into the air. He easily placed it into one of the wire racks, but Harry guessed from the lack of muscles on the boy's arms that it was less due to him being strong but more with the trunk not weighing much. But he also guessed that it didn't have the feather-light charm on it, it looked too old. Maybe someone had cast it for him?

He walked into the compartment, gait rather slowly and jerky like he was nervous. He dropped into the chair next to Harry slouching down. He was wearing rather faded clothing, trousers and a shirt.

The boy blushed. "I'm sorry, but every other compartment is full. I didn't have anywhere else to sit."

Harry frowned. There had been a lot of compartments, and it had seemed like the row was unending. How many students did they have here?

But the boy seemed really embarrassed, face a brilliant red and flaming. It had spread from his neck to his ears like Dudley's rash, and Harry found himself saying "What's your name?"

"Oh! Er, Ron Weasley." Ron licked his lips, looking around at them. He flicked his fingers as if he was asking their names back but didn't say anything out loud.

"I'm Neville Longbottom," Neville offered. His ears were a light pink, and his face was determinedly facing his lap.

"Harry." Harry was idly curious what they were supposed to do. Talk? Play games? This was new to him. There was a pause when Ron jerked his head in Harry's direction. The boy stared at Harry's forehead shamelessly, and Harry knew a scowl was brewing on his face. What did he think he was doing?

But suddenly, Ron's eyes went wide. "You're Harry Potter!" The boy's tone was beyond excited.

A pause.

"What?"

"Harry Potter! You're him, right?" Neville seemed to have blinked out of existence. Ron only had eyes for Harry.

"How did you know?" Harry was beyond confused. Neville, at least, had connected it with his parents and the fact he was a halfblood - Ron seemed to pull it out of nowhere.

"You've got black hair and green eyes! And your name is Harry!" He blushed slightly more, looking over at Harry. "Do you have - you know - the scar?"

Harry could only be silent for a second.

Oh, how he hated wizards.

"Does it matter?" He finally said, eyes wide. "I'm just Harry."

Ron looked confused. "Of course it matters! You're Harry Potter! You're famous!" He stuck out a hand. "I'm really happy to meet you. I've never met anyone famous before."

Harry shook it. Ron's grip was firm, but his arm had a light array of dirt over it. His clothes were worn, and Harry saw that his ankles were showing in the air. His wand, a light brown stick, was stuck into a pocket and looked rather old. Sympathy overwhelmed Harry. He knew what it was like to not have enough.

But Ron didn't seem to be that bad off. He was going to Hogwarts, he had a wand; so why was he acting this way? Harry did _not_ like it. Not in any sort of way. It was creepy and weird, but maybe Ron was just starstruck? Harry guessed he was famous; maybe he was _really, really_ famous.

He hoped not.

But now was the time to try and make another friend, and Harry was determined to try.

"Sure. But I'm Harry, not Harry Potter. Let's just be friends." He grinned at Ron, hair still firmly plastered over his scar. He hoped - prayed - that Hogwarts wasn't like this. He would probably explode if it was.

"But no! You're Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived!" Ron seemed confused, almost desperate. He shot his eyes up to Harry's forehead again. "You defeated You-Know-Who!"

"I guess." Harry took a deep breath, and Ron seemed to get the message that Harry was a bit ticked off. His face flamed brighter.

"Sorry." Ron winced. "I guess I kind of blew that first meeting." He stuck his hand out again, ears steadily growing a brighter red.

"I'm Ron Weasley. Nice to meet you, Harry," he said this all in one breath, voice rising and falling with nerves.

But Harry reached forward, gripping his hand and shaking it again. "Nice to meet you, Ron."

They sat there in quiet, each staring around. Neville was still focused on his lap and didn't seem to want to look up. Ron looked around before he opened his mouth. He seemed the kind of person that needed a conversation going on at all times.

"What House are you going to?" Ron asked.

"But don't we get sorted? We don't really have a choice," Harry said back, cocking his head to one side.

"Er-" Ron frowned. Then his face brightened again. "What House do you _want_ to go to?"

"I want to go to Hufflepuff, I think," Harry said. His eyes instantly picked up Ron's frown and confused expression.

Ron's brows lowered. "But - Hufflepuff is full of duffers." He pointed to Harry's chest. "You should go to Gryffindor - it's for the really brave students." He looked over at Neville, before looking back. "But anything's better than Slytherin, I guess."

"What's wrong with Slytherin?" Harry asked, ire growing back. This boy didn't seem to understand that Harry wasn't that interested in his opinions about Houses.

Ron frowned at him, looking taken aback. "You don't know? Slytherin is the worst House! Every Dark Lord ever has come from Slytherin. They probably teach dark magic or something - they even sleep down in the dungeons! All of them are evil, you know?"

Neville muttered something. Harry turned toward him, hoping for a voice of reason from the quiet boy. "What was that, Neville?"

"Merlin was in Slytherin, Ron." Neville raised his head, looking the taller boy straight in the eyes. "Are you saying he was evil?"

Ron instantly started to splutter. "Well- that's _Merlin_ , you can't say he's evil-"

"But that's just what you said, wasn't it? That every Slytherin was evil?" Neville's voice never rose above a soft tone, but it seemed stronger than it had been when Harry had first met him. "Even Merlin, apparently."

"No! Merlin wasn't evil!" Ron declared hotly, but he seemed to flounder in the conversation.

"Really?" Neville asked quietly.

Ron stood up suddenly. "I have to go." He said loudly, before just about running to the door and pulling the switch down. The door started to open but Ron was already gone, bolting down the corridor.

They waited a second in silence before Harry stood up, walking over to the door. He flipped the switch up and watched the door shut, shutting off Ron's pounding footsteps. He headed back to his seat, Fox slinking by his feet, yellow eyes bright.

"Thanks for that," he said to Neville. The boy looked up, surprised before he grinned rather sheepishly.

"It was nothing." His face flushed softly.

Harry smiled at him, and then they sat in silence for the next minutes. Fox jumped neatly onto the seat, crawling over to Harry and sliding her head under his palm. He chuckled at the pushy cat but started to pet her, scratching her right behind the ears. She purred, the sound nearly as loud as the train engine itself.

But it seemed only a few moments when the door began to slide open. Harry turned, ready to confront Ron again, but instead, a kindly face poked its way into the compartment.

The woman had a large mane of bright white hair which fell around her face. She had rather pale skin but giant, bright brown eyes. She smiled at them with neat white teeth. "Anything off the trolley, dears?"

She moved back and exposed a cart full of brightly colored packages. Electric blue bags that shuffled slightly, bright red sticks that looked like wands, boxes full of tiny colored pellets. Harry's mouth dropped open.

His hand flew to his pocket and he had his moleskine in his hand. He still had 4 more Galleons - he had spent 3 more on a small collar for Fox he wasn't quite ready to try to put on her - and he wanted candy.

Neville stood with him, 5 silver coins - Sickles, Harry idly remembered - held in his hand. He gestured, smiling, to the cart. "Ladies first."

Harry laughed, smacked him on the shoulder, and stepped forward.

The bright red wand-shaped things stood out to him, so he grabbed four of them - Liquorice Wands, the package said - but then he just snatched up some of everything. He was particularly attracted to the Ice Mice, so he grabbed a few of them. He plucked a few bright green lollipops as his last candy and offered them to the woman.

She smiled at him and flicked a short black wand, sending off his candy floating behind him and into the compartment. "That'll be two Galleons, dear." Harry grinned and handed her two of his gold coins, before heading back to his seat.

Neville reappeared only seconds later with a smaller armful of candy. But Harry was already unwrapping one of the Liquorice Wands, and he popped the end into his mouth. It was delicious.

"Never had wizard candy before, Harry?" Neville asked, amusement clear in his voice.

Harry shook his head. "Raised by muggles. This is wonderful!" He said, grinning with glee as he unwrapped a Ice Mice. But the tiny white mouse only got about two steps away before a gray shape pounced.

Fox licked her lips, the Ice Mice missing. Harry grinned and unwrapped another one, letting it run around around the compartment. Fox's yellow eyes tracked it and she started to stalk it, crouching low on the seat. Her tail flicked against the wall before she dashed forward. The Ice Mice didn't stand a chance.

Harry laughed, tossing a few to Neville so he could unwrap them. Guess he wouldn't be getting any Ice Mice today.

Inspiration struck him as he watched Fox pounce again.

Harry reached up to the wire racks, ignoring Ron's trunk. He pulled his down, reaching inside as soon as it was open. He pulled out a thin book with a snarling cat on the front.

"I'll find out what you are, Fox," he promised, sitting back down. He stood back up a second later and shoved the trunk back into the wire racks.

His back leaning against a comfortable seat, his cat running around his feet, a friend across from him - Harry grinned. Hogzits wasn't that bad yet.

He grabbed for one of the bright green lollipops that he had bought, unwrapping it. He threw the wrapper to the floor and popped it in his mouth.

Too bad he didn't read the label.

 _Acid Pops_!

"OW!"

* * *

 **Hey! Another chapter! But today I reach 125 reviews! You don't realize how happy this makes me - I love reviews beyond anything else!**

 **And, also, hey… so like, I was supposed to tell what Fox was...**

 **Okay! So I** _ **have**_ **decided, though. Even better, it is a canon creature, so someone can always correct me when I get my facts wrong. I'm sorry Cactus Cat, Tigercat of the Tundra, Strega cats, and unnamed Loki/Kneazle cat, you were all my close choices. But I'm sticking with what I got.**

 **Which I won't tell you guys yet ;)**

 **Anyway! Please read and review!**

 **Frost OUT!**


	15. Great Hall

The train snapped to a stop in a way that seemed a bit anti-climatic.

The steady motion that Harry had gotten quite used to simply ground to a stop in a gentle jerk that sent both his and Neville's heads bobbing forward. They looked up and grinned at each other.

"I think we're here." Harry stuck his tongue out at Neville, who smiled back and stood up. Fox stretched, tail inching over the seats. She yawned, sharp fangs shining.

Both of them were already wearing robes, though Harry had unbuttoned his very quickly. There were suffocating, these bathrobe things. They both readjusted theirs, Neville unclipping his from where it had been underneath his left ear.

"Come on, help me out here," Harry grumbled, reaching up to the wire racks. He grabbed onto the edge of Neville's trunk, and the boy quickly came over to help him. Together they were able to inch it off the rack and into their waiting arms. Harry grabbed onto his trunk, the charm making it _much_ easier than it would have been.

"All ready?" He asked, shifting the weight in his arms. Neville nodded, holding tightly onto the handle. Harry idly noticed his pocket shifting slightly like there was something alive inside of it.

But they had only taken two steps toward the door when a soft female voice echoed over the trunk. Harry nearly dropped his trunk, Fox hissing mightily. Neville simply looked around, moving his hold on his trunk.

" _Students are to be informed to leave their trunks and extra supplies on the train, where they will be picked up after they leave_ ," she said, not much louder than a regular voice.

Harry scowled. "Nice to know that _now_ ," he grumbled. He looked around before dumping his trunk on the seat next to him. Neville dropped his on the opposite seat, a definite _crunch_ as it squished empty wrappers into the cushions. The rest of the candy was tucked in Harry and Neville's pocket to be eaten later. There were still a few Ice Mice that Fox hadn't gotten to yet, and Harry planned to see whether see could catch them in a larger space.

He didn't really doubt it.

They exited the compartment, flicking the switch back up to close it behind them. Harry noticed a switch on the outside, and rolled his eyes. So Ron hadn't done any amazing magic to get in their compartment. He had just opened it. How disappointing.

Harry and Neville stayed rather close to each other, looking around the thin hallway they were standing in. It was a sea of black robes and pointed hats as every person on the train headed towards exits, though they could hardly do more than shuffle.

Harry sighed and grabbed Neville's hand, and together they started to inch their way toward the closest exit. It was already open, the doors slid neatly into either side of the train.

Eventually, they were able to slip out. The light has faded, leaving shadows covering nearly every part of the train station. The sun had just slipped below the horizon, but the air was still slightly warm.

Most people headed toward large black carriages that, one they well full, started to roll out of sight. Harry began to make his way toward them when Neville hissed in his ear.

"Harry! Over here!" Harry swiveled in that direction and saw a very strange sight.

A large man, nearly twice the size of Harry and several heads taller than James stood there. He had a beard that seemed it could swallow children whole and a large face. His eyes, though it was hard to tell, were a brilliant beetle black. He was wearing a coat made of brown fabric coated in pockets from his head to his toes. He was shouting, at apparently the top of his lungs, "First years! First years!"

A lantern bobbed in existence next to the man's chest, bright and shining. The man was holding it and the light glimmered over every person in the crowd. Harry winced but tightened his hold on Neville. The boy squeezed back.

Harry started to move forward when he heard a panicked meow. He whirled around and saw a large gray shape start to get swept away into the crowd. Harry yelped and sprang forward, wrapping his arms around his cat. People grumbled at him, nearly tripping over his crouched form. But Harry ignored them, angling his head up to Nevill.e

"Help me out here, will you?" The boy looked confused, but Harry quickly gestured down. They both wrapped their arms around Fox's middle, ignoring her annoyed meows. They stood up, bringing the rather heavy cat up with them.

"Oomph. What do you feed this cat?" Neville grunted, but they both managed to start to walk towards the large man. A bunch of other similarly short students wearing black robes and the same pointed hats followed them, moving towards the man.

"'Ello, everyone! Right 'this way!" The man waved one large arm at them all, smiling happily. He turned around, his lantern casting flickering lights over the crowd.

He led them over an expanse of grass wet with dew, and Harry grimaced. But he and Neville supported Fox after the man. They ignored strange looks, which was doubling enforcing by how Fox meowed angrily at Harry and Neville.

They raced after the man, whose long legs carried far further than everyone else. Neville and Harry panted slightly, and Fox wasn't making it any easier. She struggled lightly.

"Ye'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," the man called over to them as he moved a little bit closer to one side. He grinned at them and spread his arms wide, taking one final step behind a bend. Everyone followed him before suddenly stopping. Harry gasped.

The castle was _enormous_.

It was perched on top of a mighty mountain, but everyone of the castle's' many turrets and towers and walls carried it higher and higher until it seemed to nearly scrape the sky. There were windows, small dots that either glittered from lights within or were dark. It towered well above anything else Harry had ever seen, his neck craning back to see it all.

He was going to school _here_?

There were outbuildings, including one large cabin, that were dotted over the lands. Behind the castle, Harry caught a glimpse of a ring on a pole, but only a silver. There wasn't a moat but there was a lake right in front of them; a dark, smooth thing that lapped gently near their feet.

"No more'n four to a boat!" The man cried, and Harry suddenly saw boats, tiny little things lined up on the shore. He and Neville shared a look before they headed to one, dodging a black-haired child.

Fox hissed one last time at them, and they set her down inside the boat. She shook violently, sending little waves of cat fur everywhere, before settling herself near the front of the boat She peered curiously at the water, his reflection strange in the waves.

Neville clambered in first, quickly getting inside and sitting on one of the four seats. Harry jumped in as well, nearly tripping, but his hands caught the edge quick enough.

"How do we move?" Harry whispered to Neville, who simply shook his head.

"No idea," he said back.

"Everyone in?" The man shouted. He was in his own boat, sitting quite happily with his coat all around him. He looked over \the boats, before pushing the hand with the lantern outward. "Right then- _forward_!"

And, amazingly, the little boats slipped off the shore and headed into the water.

Harry gasped, looking back at the sandy beach. It was growing smaller and smaller, and there was even a small wake behind them, but he was not paddling.

"Wicked," he whispered. Neville nodded back.

They slipped over the water, waves breaking against the hulls. Fox had pranced back to the middle of the boat, calmly sitting down and pretending her fur hadn't puffed out when the boat had started to move. Harry grinned.

One hand slid into his pocket, where his fingers met cold scales. Abrin hadn't said much when the train started, and Harry had _not_ brought him out in front of Neville. Yes, the boy was nice, but Abrin wasn't supposed to be at the school and Harry was _not_ going to lose him.

"Heads down!" the man yelled as they reached the mountain the castle was on. They were passing through an overhang of ivy, which fell like a waterfall of green. Harry bent his head, feeling the leaves brush over his neck.

His hand shot out and Harry had a vine in his grip. With several sharp tugs, about half of it snapped off and fell into the boat. Harry gathered it up, but he didn't have nearly enough in his pocket with his nail polish and Abrin to hold it. He wrapped it around his arm, ignoring the strange look from Neville.

He'd have to collect some live later, but he could study this vine. He was going to find every magic thing in this world.

They were going through a tunnel; the ivy was like a door to this passageway through the mountain. The sides of the walls were smooth like they had been carved. But it was beyond dark, just pitch black. But the boats knew where they were going and they emerged on the other side in what seemed like no time at all.

The boats, all as one, made a neat turn to the right. Together they moved a little bit faster until they reached another shore. This one was larger, more sandy, and each of the boats sped up just a little bit so that they rode smoothly up onto the shore.

Neville and Harry stared at each other for a second before they both clambered out, sand crunching between their feet. Fox leaped out neatly, hissing in distaste at the sand over her paws.

The man looked over each of their boats, lantern tight in his hand. Everyone just sort of huddled together, looking up at the majestic castle. It seemed bigger, being at the base of it. It was made of a dark gray stone, with the roof made of black tile. Harry couldn't stop staring at it until Neville bumped his shoulder. The man was moving, heading towards a wooden door that seemed to be as tall as the castle itself.

They walked up a set of stone stairs, moving by the light of the man's lantern. The door looked only to be as tall as one and a half of the man, but that meant it was about three times as tall as Harry.

The man raised one giant hand and knocked four times on the door. It echoed hollowly before falling silent. Harry waited, anxiety rising.

But it was only a few seconds before the door swung open inward, easily moving despite it size.

And there was a woman there. She was tall, but only up to around the chest of the man. She had bright emerald-green robes that swished behind her when she walked, and a tight gray bun perched on the top of my head. Her face was stern but large glasses on her nose. She stared over at the children before focusing on the man.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," the man said, hoisting the lantern higher so that its light spilled over everyone there.

The woman - Professor McGonagall - inclined her head. "Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." She flicked her wand again, a long brown stick, and the door began to fully open. Hagrid stepped to one side, lantern still held up.

Harry walked forward, one hand falling down to one side. Fox flicked her tail up to touch his fingers, peering up at him. He smiled at her, looking back up at Professor McGonagall. The woman looked over the crowd, brown eyes bright.

And then they walked into the entrance hall. It was enormous, seemingly big enough to fit an entire street inside. The stone walls, which were a light gray, were lit with many bright torches. They cast flickering shadows over the floor and walls, and the ceiling was way too high to even see. There was a marble staircase on the other side that took up the entirety of the side, leading to higher levels.

Professor McGonagall started to walk quickly over the flagged stone floor, heels clicking on the ground. Everyone quickly sped after her, shuffling along after her. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of other voices, and he guessed that the other students that had gone on the carriages were already here. She led them up to another giant door, this one a dark brown wood with two large silver handles. But before she opened it up, she paused. Professor McGonagall turned to face them all, face stern.

Everyone looked up at her, shuffling nervously. She fixed them with a slight smile, though her eyes were piercing as she looked over them.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her brown eyes flashed over everyone, pausing on certain students. Harry tried to flatten his hair but only managed to make it squish out on either side. Professor McGonagall stared at him, but she only smiled slightly and turned away. He was suddenly very conscious of the vine wrapped around his arm, which was rather easy to see. He unwrapped it from outside his robe before pulling his robes open, tying the vine around his waist. He closed his robes again, feeling rather proud of himself. Neville snorted.

And then she flicked her wand, and the door began to open.

Harry tried to look past the door but someone was blocking him. Neville gripped his hand and they both looked at each other, exchanging a nervous glance.

Professor McGonagall headed towards it, slipping through the other side. "I shall return when we are ready for you," she said to them as she disappeared on the other side. The door shut with a resounding _boom_.

Harry swallowed nervously. His heart was beating rather fast like it was going to pump itself right out of his chest. He was scared beyond belief.

What would they do here? The castle was amazing, he had already changed a pink flower blue, and there were so many magical plants and animals that he could play with. But was he supposed to have known something? Something that he had to do to get into the school?

A girl behind him with bushy brown hair was whispering hurriedly underneath her breath like she could never talk again, and Harry couldn't pick a single word out of it. There was a bleach-blond boy that was talking quietly, and Harry couldn't hear him either.

Did all of them know something that he didn't?

But Harry had barely any time to think before screams echoed around the room. He jumped, glancing around the room.

They weren't alone anymore.

Pearly-white and slightly transparent, strange figures floated through the wall. They were human-shaped but misty, like they were made of smoke. Harry only had one idea.

They were ghosts.

They glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance-"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost - I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years.

Nobody answered.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

"Move along." There was a sharp voice in the room, and then Professor McGonagall emerged from behind the doors, emerald-green robes snapping around her ankles. "The Sorting and about to begin."

She gestured to the line of children, before pointing to the opening door. "Form a line behind me," she declared. "We shall enter the Great Hall soon."

They did so, grouping up until they were in the saddest excuse for a line ever created. Professor McGonagall's lips thinned, but she simply shook her head and began to walk forward, heading toward the door.

Then, moving as one, the entire group began to shuffle forward.

And they entered the Great Hall. Harry's jaw dropped open.

He had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, bobbing and swaying softly in the air, though Harry couldn't feel a breeze. The four tables were where the students were sitting, all looking over at the children.

These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets that shone in the flickering candlelight. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Harry saw Professor Sprout smile at him, eyes bright.

Professor McGonagall led the first years up to the front of the room so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He heard someone whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."

It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open onto the heavens.

Harry quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool, she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty.

Did they have to put it on their head?

Harry quickly noticed that everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat so he stared at it, too. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth - and the hat began to sing:

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, if you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"And now," a tall man with a shining white beard and half-moon glasses stood up from his seat in the middle of the professor's table. "Let the Sorting begin."

* * *

 **Chapter 15! 50 thousand words! I'm so happy with myself!**

 **This is, so far, my longest fanfiction I've ever written! YAY!**

 **I've been working on this chapter for a couple of days, trying to word it correctly. This was my best go at it, but I'm still not 100% with it. But eh, you know,** _ **it's done**_ **.**

 **Also, I know that I could've not had the song in this fic because every one of you have read it, but, you know, immersion. I like it too much.**

 **Anyway! Please read and review!**

 **Frost OUT!**


	16. Sorting

The old man with the white beard smiled over the crowd, bright blue eyes twinkling. Professor McGonagall shot him a look, before turning back to the rickety old stool she was standing in front of. She flicked her wand, and a scroll zoomed from her spot on the table in front of her. Another flick and it was open, suspended in the air. She grabbed onto the top of the old hat in one hand.

"Abbott, Hannah!" She called out to the Hall.

There was a short pause before a yelp echoed around the room. A small blonde girl ran out of the small crowd of first years. Her robes snapped around her ankles, blonde hair streaming behind her. She sat down very quickly on the stool, nearly falling backward. Her face started to flame brighter than the Hogwarts Express.

Professor McGonagall dropped the Sorting Hat on her head. It shifted slightly, the tear along its brim twitching like lips. Then, in the same booming voice it had used when it was singing, it roared out to the crowd, "Hufflepuff!"

The third table, full of people with yellow trimmed robes, yelled out in happiness. There was a lot of clapping and cheering, and Hannah blushed, grinned, and headed towards the table, Professor McGonagall having plucked the hat off of her head. She read the list floating in front of her again.

"Bones, Susan," she announced.

Another blonde girl walked out from the crowd, moving a bit slower than Hannah but still with a bright string in her step. She sat on the stool, the old wood giving a quiet _creak_. Professor McGonagall placed the hat on her head.

There was another pause, not nearly as long as Hannah's. Susan's face screwed up a bit, scowling. But the hat opened its mouth and shouted, "Hufflepuff!"

The table exploded into cheers again, but Susan was frowning, and the jump in her step had disappeared as she walked over to an empty seat.

"Boot, Terry!"

A rather tall boy with messy brown hair walked up to the hat, his hands shaking. He sat down, and the Sorting Hat was put on his head and fell over his eyes. There was a rather long pause where Terry's hands started to twitch.

Then- "Ravenclaw!"

Harry started to zone out. There were more and more people going, but Harry could only focus on their last names. Cornfoot, Entwistle, Finnigan.

They didn't seem to do anything, and Harry's heart rate was starting to calm down. But that all ended when Professor McGonagall paused. Her eyes flicked over the page, then over the crowd. And then back to the scroll.

The last name - Megan Jones who had gone to Hufflepuff - had something gone wrong? Was that the last name on the list? Harry started to panic, looking over at everyone in the crowd. Where they all not supposed to be there?

Then Professor McGonagall looked up from the scroll to meet the surprised faces of everyone in the crowd. She held up the Sorting Hat, fingers tight.

"Harry Lakeson-Potter," she said.

There was a pause. Everyone was silent, staring over at each other. The color drained out of the white bearded man's face, and he wasn't the only one. Professor McGonagall was looking about as stunned as she could.

"Lakeson?"

"What does that mean?"

"Why is it in front of Potter?"

"Where is he? The Boy-Who-Lived?"

The whispers were annoying beyond all belief, Harry decided.

But still? Lakeson? That was new.

Harry started to step forward, heading towards the Sorting Hat, when he suddenly yelped. A gray blur sped by his feet, heading right towards the Hat. Harry immediately shot forward, arms outstretching.

Foxglove, the giant kneazle hybrid, hopped neatly up onto the three-legged stool and meowed triumphantly.

There was another silence before people started to laugh. It seemed to explode out of every table, loud and rambunctious

Harry's face could have stopped a raging train. His ears, neck, and cheeks burned and it didn't seem it would ever go away. He ran the last few steps up and wrapped his arms around his fur. With no little effort, he managed to pull the cat off of the stool. She meowed at him, landing neatly on her feet and peering up at him.

Professor McGonagall's lips twitched, thinning out. But her eyes were bright and her face was happy. She seemed on the verge of bursting out into laughter.

"Fox!" Harry hissed. "Go to Neville!"

The cat looked up at him, tilting her head to one side. Then she padded off of the platform and headed toward the crowd, where he could see her stop at the feet of Neville. The boy gave him the thumbs up, though his face was red and he was chuckling.

"Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall demanded, though her lips were still twitching upward. "Why did you not leave your familiar on the train? You were informed, I believe."

Harry could only blush. "The train only said to leave extra supplies, Ma'am. I didn't think Fox counted as a supply."

Professor McGonagall smiled, just ever so slightly. She held up the hat and gestured to the stool. "Please have a seat, Mr. Potter."

Harry sat down before something stuck out in his mind. "Lakeson-Potter, Ma'am." And then the Sorting Hat fell over his eyes.

 _Ah, hello, Mr. Lakeson-Potter_. A soft voice whispered in his ear.

Sorting Hat? Harry thought, mouthing the words.

There was a soft chuckle. _Yes, I am the Sorting Hat. Now to sort you!_

There was a pause, accented by several 'hum's or 'huh's from the hat. _Well, Mr. Lakeson-Potter, you are very difficult. Many troubles within you- oh! Venenamania!_

Harry tensed. What?

A chuckle. _Oh, don't worry. I am a hat; who could I tell? I feel that you shall find a kindred spirit in this school._

 _Now, where to place you. I cannot picture you in Gryffindor; you are not that brave, I believe._

I want in Hufflepuff, though Harry determinedly.

 _Hufflepuff? I can see you there. Hardworking would definitely describe you, and you are particularly loyal to things that are 'yours'._

 _But Ravenclaw; you have absorbed every bit of knowledge sent your way and thrive for more. You enjoy learning and remembering things._

Hufflepuff, Harry thought. They have plants.

 _Oh, asking me for a House? That's brave. Maybe you should go in Gryffindor._

 _But Ravenclaw would allow you to learn and master every aspect of your venenamania. Learning about everything and anything you need to!_

Harry shook his head. Plants.

There was a soft chuckle. _Unfortunately for you, Mr. Lakeson-Potter, I am the Sorting Hat, not you._

"Ravenclaw!" It bellowed over the Great Hall.

After only a moment, the second table exploded into endless cheers. They stood up, waving around their pointed black hats, and clapped as loud as they could. The fourth table seemed very subdued, looking at Harry is confusion.

Harry took off the hat and headed towards the table. A spot cleared instantly between a widely grinning blond-haired boy and an empty seat.

The boy was short, but that meant he was just about Harry's height. His eyes were a brilliant brown that seemed large for his face. His teeth had braces on them, with dark green bands.

"Hello!" He said happily. "My name's Kevin Entwhistle." He peered over at Harry, grin never fading.

"I'm Harry?" Harry answered back.

"Last name? I wasn't paying attention." Kevin blushed slightly, still smiling. Harry stared at him in wonder.

"Lakeson-Potter," he said softly, tilting his head to one side.

"Wicked; you've got two last names! Potter sounds kind of familiar." Kevin paused, thinking. Then he snapped his fingers. "Are you and your family potters? Like, they make stuff out of clay? Pots and bowls and stuff? "

Harry grinned. He liked this kid. "Not that I know of, no."

A meow sounded by his feet. Harry looked down and saw Fox threading the last of her way through feet and legs, arriving at Harry's side. She sat down, looking piteously at Harry's plate.

"Sorry, Fox. I'll get you some meat when we have food," he said, stroking her behind the ears. She purred up at him.

"Wicked cat, Harry." Kevin grinned. "Mum said I could get a cat when I was older - they're both muggles, and we don't really know much about this world yet. But I'm going to get a cat when I'm in my third year!"

"Hey, Potter," a voice called out. Harry swung his head to one side and saw a tall, brown-haired boy with bright gray eyes.

"Yeah?" He called back.

"What kind of a cat is that?" He gestured to Fox, before adding "I'm Roger Davies, by the way."

"Er- well, someone called her a knezle?"

"Kneazle," Roger corrected almost absentmindedly. "But she's definitely got some lynx in her; wouldn't you agree, guys?"

"Lynx?" Harry said rather blankly. He had brought a big cat?

"Lynxes aren't that common around here - they mainly live over in Canada - but we've got a reserve for them, because magical lynxes are dead useful. They can see through wards and, with some time, even walk through them unaffected - they've saved lives before."

"But she's also a kneazle." Harry frowned.

Roger shrugged. "Well, wizards couldn't exactly walk around with lynxes at their sides, could they? So, they were crossbred with something smaller. It still had to have magic, though, so that the lynxes magical blood wouldn't die out. So kneazles were the best choice. Lynx and kneazle hybrids are actually very common, nowadays."

Harry opened his mouth to answer back when suddenly, "Longbottom, Neville!" echoed around the Hall. Harry snapped to attention, staring as the brown-haired boy walked nervously up to the stage. What House would he be in?

There was a pause where Neville's face screwed up tightly, concentrating. Then, with the same powerful voice, the Hat announced, "Ravenclaw!"

Harry simply sat there until someone next to him started clapping, and then he slammed his hands together and cheered from the boy as Neville trotted over to the table, only seeming to remember he still had the Hat on around halfway. He turned bright red and returned it.

Harry pointed to the empty seat next to him, and Neville gratefully took it. "How'd you get in here?" Harry asked.

Neville blushed. "Well, it wanted to send me to Hufflepuff. But I really wanted to stick with someone I knew, so I just thought about how much I love to learn about plants and it put me here!"

Harry grinned wildly. "That's great, Neville! Now we're together for real!"

Neville smiled back at him.

There was a slight commotion on the table, and when Harry turned to the left he saw, sitting next to Kevin was a tall, asian girl. She stared at him with dark eyes, a smile on her lips.

"Harry? Can I ask you a quick question? I'm Cho Chang."

Harry nodded, tilting his head to one side. "What do you want to know?"

"Well, why is your name Lakeson-Potter instead of just Potter? Nothing was ever said about that."

Harry frowned. "Well, I don't know why you'd expect to know before you heard it from me, but it's because I have a magical Guardian. His last name is Lakeson, so I guess my name was changed? Yeah, like that."

Cho looked very, _very_ interested. "A new magical Guardian? Who is he?"

Harry's eyebrows lowered. "Why do you want to know? Is that important?"

"Sorry, Harry." Cho looked abashed. "I was just curious; I'm a Ravenclaw, after all." She smiled at him with very white teeth. "I'll avoid asking so many questions next time."

Harry grinned at her. "Thanks."

There was another cry of "Ravenclaw!" and a girl sat across from Harry. She had dark skin, much darker than Cho's. Her hair was long and black, tied back in a loose braid. She had dark brown eyes and an open face.

"Hello," Harry said. She smiled at him, but seemed to be distracted, staring over at the Sorting Hat. "What's your name?"

"I'm Padma Patil, and-" but she was suddenly stopped as a cry of "Gryffindor!" went around the Great Hall.

"Oh, oh no," she nearly whispered, and Harry followed her gaze. A nearly identical copy of her was walking toward the Gryffindor table, very far away from the Ravenclaw table. The girl stared at Padma, fear in her eyes. Then she sat down and just stared at her plate.

"Was that your twin?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," Padma responded. She was staring at her plate, too, shoulders tight. "We're completely identical; they put the Weasley twins together, why not us?"

"Er-" Harry looked around. He did _not_ know what to do here, but suddenly Cho Chang stood up, taking the seat next to Padma. She put a gentle arm over the girl's shoulders, whispering things to her. Even in the few seconds, Padma seemed to relax slightly.

Harry only idly heard "Weasley, Ron!" but he - and all of the Great Hall - definitely heard the cry of anger that went around the room.

The red haired boy was holding onto the hat with both of his hands, squeezing it down on his head. His eyes were tightly closed in concentration, and his face was tightly scrunched up. The Sorting Hat shouted something around the room.

"No, I cannot resort anyone! Gryffindor! Gryffindor!"

Professor McGonagall deftly slashed her wand diagonally, and the Hat flicked its way out of Ron's grip. The boy scowled but trotted off to the Gryffindor table. There was clapping but it was almost subdued by the obviously angry boy.

There were only a few more names and then the last one was going - "Zabini, Blaise!" and then the white-bearded man stood up from his golden chair. It was more like a throne, if any. He held out his arms and the room started to fall silent.

"I am Professor Dumbledore, your Headmaster." Off in the corner, Professor McGonagall picked up the stool and the hat and disappeared down a corridor.

"Welcome!" He boomed. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts - or your first year, which I hope you will enjoy tremendously. Before we begin our feast, I have but a few words to say to you - Nitwit! Oddment! Blubber! Tweak!"

Harry stared. But when the smell of meat floated into his nose, he looked down at his plate.

And gasped.

Plates had appeared in the middle of the table, bright golden things that numbered so many they were touching. But it was not the plates that were amazing - it was what was on them.

Roasts, chicken, beef, pork, corn, gravy, potatoes, bacon, steak, pork chops and lamb chops, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots; everything he could imagine and more. All of the first years were staring at the food in unabridged awe, right up until someone grabbed themselves a slice of roast. From then on, it was madness.

Food was grabbed and eaten and put back. Harry found himself lucky to have three pieces of bacon; the rest was snapped up so quickly it seemed like magic. He gave three pork chops to Fox, who ate them up happily and settled down underneath the seat. Abrin was given two small chunks of steak, which were snapped up almost along with his fingers. Two more slices had gone into his pocket and were never seen again, and Harry felt happy little hisses coming from the Adder as he ate.

Then the desserts appeared; treacle tart, ice cream blocks, apple pies, chocolate eclairs, doughnuts, and strawberries. Harry was in food heaven.

But eventually, all of the food had disappeared, and everyone was leaning back with content sighs and plump bellies. Harry thought about the few bits and pieces of candy in his pocket and knew it would be a while until he had enough room to eat them.

Professor Dumbledore stood up again, and the Great Hall fell silent. "Now, just a few more words now that you are fed and watered. First years should not that the Forbidden Forest is just that - forbidden. And perhaps a few other students should care to remember that as well."

His gaze swept over the room amidst a few light chuckles.

"I am also to inform you that no magic is allowed in the corridors between classes and that Quidditch trials will take place on the second week of the term. Also, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side of the school is forbidden except to those who wish to die a very painful death."

The man grinned as if he'd just announced a wonderful thing.

Death? Oh, how Harry hated wizards.

Harry looked around and saw that Dumbledore was still standing, but so was another person. A very short professor with blond-brown hair and an open face. He walked around the side of the table and headed towards the Ravenclaw table.

"And now, let us sing the school song!" Dumbledore cried out, flicking his wand. Words started to expand out of the tip but that was when a hand landed on Harry's shoulder.

He yelped, spinning around.

There was the short professor, smiling at him. They were nearly the same height.

"Hello, Mr. Lakeson-Potter. I am Professor Flitwick, but could you come with me, please? Headmaster Dumbledore wishes to speak with you."

* * *

 **Yeah, everyone! Another chapter is up!**

 **So, who thought Harry was going to Ravenclaw? I thought about him going to Hufflepuff, but I figured that with his venenamania, some parts of him are about as opposite from the House as they could be. Though Harry did try to argue - hope you enjoyed that!**

 **And I do feel that if Neville had made a nice friendship on the train, he would have tried to go to that person's House, just so he wouldn't have to try and make new friends. It just fits with his character.**

 **A little bit of Dumbledore drama, oooh. Can't wait to write the next chapter!**

 **Anyway! So Fox is revealed! (Finally)**

 **Kneazle and magical Lynx. Lynx was actually quite popular, and so I went with it. Gave a bit of a backstory as well, and revealed some of Fox's abilities - oooh!**

 **Anyway! Please read and review!**

 **Frost OUT!**


	17. Professor Dumbledore

Harry had never been so happy to leave a room in his life.

The door couldn't shut fast enough, shutting off the horrible sound that was the school song. Shutting off the horrible voices, the off-tune screams, the self-chosen tempos and, from some distant corner, the booms of a terribly slow funeral march. Fox hissed at the door, ears pinned to the back of her head. She inched farther away from it. Even Abrin had woken up from his pocket, and Harry had to hurriedly dig his hand back into his pocket to force the Adder's head down from where it was trying to poke out of his robes.

Professor Flitwick seemed to see the agony in Harry's eyes and chuckled. Harry fixed him with a pain-filled stare, asking, "What is that thing?"

"That, Mr. Potter, is the school song." Professor Flitwick smiled, showing ever-so-slightly sharpened teeth. "It is a tradition."

Harry shuddered. "Well, it's a terrible song."

The short man winked. "Every member of the staff agrees with you there, Mr. Potter."

Harry huffed. "If everyone hates it, then why not just change it? Same with this and the Galleon - Sickle rate; just change it to make everyone happy!"

Professor Flitwick chuckled. "Well, it is a tradition. But more importantly, it is very entertaining to muffle the noise and watch the first years react."

"Oh." Harry blushed.

"This way!" Professor Flitwick gestured, pointing. They were in a hallway right outside of the Great Hall that stretched out in all directions. Each of the hallways was lined with pictures or knights in armor or wooden doors. The castle - school, Harry had reminded himself - seemed impossibly big, each corridor larger than the Dursley's largest room.

Professor Flitwick smiled at Harry's gobsmacked expression. "Off we go!" He gestured again, and Harry realized he was pointing towards a wide staircase resting lightly on the ground. Harry trotted after the professor, wondering how such a short person would move so fast.

They arrived at the staircase, walking up it. Professor Flitwick flicked his wrist and suddenly his wand was in his hand, rather long for such a short man. He tapped it thrice against the railing of the first stair, and Harry watched in awe as every stair rippled slightly, like a wave had passed over them. Fox easily pranced onto the stairs, pawing at the second step.

Professor Flitwick noticed his look and said, "Little secret. It's always better to freeze the staircases so they don't start moving when you're on them then have them change directions while you're on them. The spell removes itself when the wand that did the spell moves off of it, so you don't have to worry about it being stuck forever."

"'Start moving?'" Harry questioned, confusion filtering through his voice. Professor Flitwick simply smiled and pointed upwards. Harry looked up.

His mouth fell open.

Dozens of staircases, each one as pristine and wide as the one they were on was stationed above him. None had any sort of support, simply attached to doorways and openings. But the fact they were just about floating in the air was nothing.

They were _moving_.

Staircases simply detached themselves from one part of the wall and started to gently float through the air and reattached themselves elsewhere. Two staircases nearly hit each but instead, one went up and the other went down, before going back to their positions after they were passed. It was a floating maze of staircases that were _moving_.

Harry heard Professor Flitwick chuckle. "While I would gladly stay and simply watch your expression, we do have to hurry, I'm afraid. After the school song, I have to go to the Ravenclaw dorms and introduce myself to the students."

Harry wrenched his gaze away from one staircase moving much faster than the others. "Why did you take me, then?"

Professor Flitwick smiled. "Well, I'm going to have to take several other students up to Professor Dumbledore, and I always like to try and get one student up there before the end of the day. You were just the closest sitting next to me, and you are a Ravenclaw, so you were picked first. Don't worry, Professor Dumbledore will most likely have you down before I finish introducing, and if you miss anything I will inform you before you go to bed."

"Why does Professor Dumbledore meet with students?" Harry asked, more than a bit curious. He frowned. He could have sworn the staircase they were walking up had just twitched under their feet, but when he looked at it, it seemed perfectly in place. Hadn't Professor Flitwick frozen it?

He started to move a little faster, just in case.

Professor Flitwick smiled wryly. "Well, I believe you will find I am the only Head of House to do this, as it's rather tiring and doesn't do much. But every muggleborn and muggle-raised student that comes into Ravenclaw is sent up to Professor Dumbledore so that he can explain a few important things about Hogwarts to them, and help them under that a few things about magic that purebloods or halfbloods might already know. Just a little background knowledge on our world so they can feel a bit more in place, so the cultural shock is lessened slightly."

He looked over at Harry and at the wand held tightly in his hand. "He might, in your case, call up your Guardian, just so he can confirm your name, Mr. Lakeson-Potter." Professor Flitwick paused. "Oh, do you have preferences to what you are called?" Professor Flitwick walked off the edge of the staircase, neatly turning to the left and tapping his wand against the railing of another. He started walking up it, and Harry quickly ran to catch up.

Harry shook his head. "Anything's fine, really. I can understand that Lakeson-Potter might become a bit of a mouthful, really." He tried for a bright smile in the professor's direction and was rewarded with one in return. "Mr. Potter is fine."

Professor Flitwick smiled at him. "That's good to hear. Well, here we are!"

They were standing on the edge of a staircase, and Harry quickly jumped onto the stone platform jutting out. Fox was in front of him, the tuft on her tail bobbing up and down.

There were railings on every side, and he was grateful. He had never done very well with heights, and he shivered to think what would happen if he looked over the edge.

Professor Flitwick led him down the hallway just a little bit, passing several portraits. Harry could have sworn that a woman in one of them had waved at him, but he didn't get the chance to check because they had arrived at something that looked like a turret.

It was a circular hole cut into the side of the wall, round and protruding. But what was amazing was the giant bronze griffin taking up nearly all of the space in the room.

"Liquorice Wands," Professor Flitwick said very loudly. There was a pause where Harry looked around, rather confused. Was that some sort of spell? But he had just candy with the same name!

But then there was a horrible, horrible grating sound, and the griffin began to slowly spin in a circle.

"Wicked," Harry breathed, watching the griffin circle around one more time and reveal a dark golden staircase. Then he paused.

"Professor?" He asked. The man looked over at him.

"Hmm?"

"Was Professor Dumbledore in Gryffindor?"

Professor Flitwick tilted his head. "Why yes, he was. Why do you ask?"

"Well." Harry coughed rather awkwardly, heat rising in his cheeks."His door is a griffin. A griffin door."

Professor Flitwick laughed. "Yes, I had noticed that as well. He was in Gryffindor and was very proud of it, I suppose. I'm sure that you can find other animal symbols in his room if you look hard enough." Harry missed the slight tightening of the man's eyes.

"Walk on up, Mr. Potter." The professor gestured to the stairs. "Professor Dumbledore will tell you the way to the Ravenclaw dorms when you are done."

Harry paused for a second before he quickly turned and darted up the stairs. They were cold but they got warmer the higher he went up until he was sure that there must be some sort of a fire nearby. It even had the smell of burning wood!

He arrived at a platform at the top of the stairs. On the very top, there was a large wooden door carved with elegant runes. He stared at them, not recognizing a single one. He knew he'd take Ancient Runes, though. The woman at _Merlin Gardens_ had said that the runes could make pocket dimensions.

And he was going to make one!

So, with that final thought, Harry pushed the door open.

The office was strange.

There was a direct path to a large wooden desk covered in a mess of papers but with a clear spot right in the middle. It was just about as tall as Harry's chest, which put it a mark higher than any other desk Harry had ever been to.

Most of the walls were covered in bookshelves, except for a wooden door in the very back. On nearly every shelf, there were books. Books were covers that looked like they would be the sky itself or could only be a shade of gray found in the deepest of mists. Harry longed to go over and read them all.

But also in shelves all along the room were all manners of strange objects. They were mainly silver but Harry caught sight of gold and bronze as well. They had tubes and openings and handles in every place imaginable, and Harry found himself wondering what they could be used for. Then he saw the people.

There was Professor Dumbledore, sitting behind the desk with an air of importance around him. He was still wearing pale gold robes, though Harry could see, now that he was closer, a light red interior whenever the edge moved. His half-moon glasses were perched on the tip of his nose and his fingers were pressed together on the desk in front of him. He stared at Harry with twinkling blue eyes, a light smile on his lips. But next to him, sitting very awkwardly in a comfy chair with his hands fluttering in his lap and trying to pretend he was not staring in awe around the room was-

"James!" Harry cried, jumping forward.

The man caught him with a surprised 'oomph!', before wrapping his arms around him. They hugged for a few seconds before Harry pulled back, staring up into James' blue eyes.

"You saw me earlier today, Harry," James murmured to him. "Possessive?"

Harry blushed a brilliant crimson hue that started by his ears and spread downward. But he didn't relinquish his hold on James' arm. "Well, you are mine. I'm allowed to be possessive."

Both of them missed how Professor Dumbledore's eyes sharpened.

"Harry, my boy!" Professor Dumbledore said cheerfully, eyes bright. He nodded to the child, who was still nearly on James' lap. Harry blushed and stood up.

Professor Dumbledore flicked his wand, and a very comfy armchair appeared right beside James, though there were a notable few inches that separated them. Harry practically collapsed inside of it, at least until he heard James' muffled snicker. He straightened up, cheeks bright.

"Hullo, Professor Dumbledore," Harry said dutifully. "Professor Flitwick told me why I'd be up here."

"Did he?" Professor Dumbledore laughed. "Well, that describes Filius perfectly, then. But there are a few things different about you, Mr. Potter." He gestured to one side. "That is why I have brought your Guardian here with you."

"How'd you get him here?" Harry asked, tilting his head to one side. "I thought he wasn't allowed on the Hogwarts Express."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Well, muggles aren't allowed on the train, yes. But we wizards have other ways of traveling."

Harry perked up, staring directly at the man. "What kind of travel? Do you have magic carpets? Do you fly on dragons?"

There was a burn behind his eyes, something bright and fierce. Harry grimaced, rubbing at his face. It stopped instantly.

Dumbledore took a few moments to answer. "We have a sort of teleportation, I believe you call it. It is called apparition, though it takes a very long time to learn how to do it properly. Then we have portkeys, which is how I brought James here."

Harry turned to the man whose eyes were bright and excited. "It was amazing! He gave me this empty book, told me to hold on tight, and then a second later I was standing in his office!" He winced. "Wasn't exactly the most comfortable thing, though."

Dumbledore laughed. "Ah yes, that is the rather unfortunate thing about wizarding travel. It is rarely comfortable, though brooms are easier than most."

James' eyes widened. "Brooms-"

But Dumbledore clapped his hands together, eyes brightening. "Well! I do have a few standard questions, and then James can be on his way home."

"Are you aware of the few basic rules Hogwarts has? That every student is only allowed one cat, owl, or toad?" He fixed Harry with a look, and Harry quickly nodded. "That electives, such as Divination and Arithmancy, are only to be taken in the third year and beyond?"

Harry waved a hand. "Yeah, I can read all about those. Professor Flitwick said that he'd tell me everything when I got back."

"One last question, my boy." Dumbledore chuckled gently.

"Have you had any magical training, my boy? Any at all?" The look Dumbledore was giving him was unnerving and powerful, staring past his eyeballs and into his soul. His eyes prickled again.

"Er-" Harry paused, before brightening. "I did actually turn a flower blue, right after I got my letter. It was pink before, and all I had to do to change it was hold my hands up and concentrate!" James nodded in the background, but his eyes were fixed on Dumbledore.

The old man laughed. "Well, that must have been quite the surprise! Do you know if you can do anything else?"

Harry heard Abrin shuffle in his pocket, saw his teacher's hair turn a bright blue, felt the painful squeezing of reappearing on the roof of his school.

"No."

He blushed as Dumbledore turned to looked furtively at him. Both of his hands fell to his sides, burying themselves into Fox's gray fur. She purred.

Why was he so nervous?

"Well then. Now onto one last question." He fixed both of them with a twinkling smile. "What do you know about magical Guardians?"

James and Harry shared a look. "Er- well, James is mine," Harry offered. "And we can't have any ill-will for each other, and he has to have cared for me before. Er- they asked if we had any afflictions that could alter our decisions?"

"Do you?" Dumbledore asked, eyes bright.

"Why do you want to know?" James answered. His voice was a few notches colder than it had been.

Dumbledore held his hands up in an expression of peace. "My apologies. Simply an old man's curiosity."

"You two seem to understand what being a magical Guardian is. You understand, James, that in an accident with Harry's muggle Guardian's or a magical emergency, you will take Harry in for any period of time?"

"Yes. The goblins told us."

"Then I see no problems with anything. Do either of you have any questions about anything?"

James twitched his hand, turning to Dumbledore. "I do have a question, actually. Is it okay if you can drop me off at Diagon Alley? I want to pick up a few books to make sure that I know about the Wizarding World."

Dumbledore looked over at him before smiling gently. "Of course, James. Just please remember that you cannot tell any other muggles, as that would break the Statue of Secrecy."

James hummed in agreement. "Of course, Dumbledore. I won't tell a soul." He mimed zipping his lips shut.

Dumbledore chuckled softly. "You do have money on you, I hope?"

James shook his head. "Don't need to. I can access Harry's vault, and I can always repay him if I take too much." Harry nodded. It was much easier than James having to go back to his apartment and getting money, then converting it and having to find his way back to Diagon Alley. They had already done it once when they had had to purchase more parchment.

Dumbledore's eyebrows drew together. "Ah. The goblins told you, I assume?"

James frowned. "Well, yeah. Who else would?"

Dumbledore smiled again, shrugging. "I had nearly forgotten myself, actually. I was surprised when you brought it up, is all." He clapped his hands together. "Now! Let's see about getting you to Diagon Alley, James."

He looked around his office before his eyes lit open a piece of blank parchment on his desk. With a flick of his wand, it went flying into his hand.

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed as he stared at the piece of parchment. His brows furrowed, his fingers tightened. His knobbly wand pressed lightly onto the side, the tip starting to light up with a faint blue hue. Then, with a soft voice, he said, "Portus."

The parchment lit up with the same light blue before fading. Harry stared at it with wide eyes as Dumbledore handed it to James.

"There you go. Now, if you simply say 'Hogwarts', it will transport you to where you're going!" The man smiled.

"Wicked," Harry whispered, going closer to the parchment.

James shot a look at Dumbledore before stepping closer to Harry. He knelt getting closer to his level. "Stay safe, kid. Keep your pets - er, pet - safe, too." He paused and looked closer at Harry. "Use my little gift, okay?"

Harry nodded, touching his pocket. James' eyes went down and saw Abrin's head poke out the tiniest bit before disappearing back inside. A real, wide grin spread over the man's face. He laughed, slapping a hand over Harry's back. "You don't need my help for that, Harry!"

And then he tightly gripped the paper, grinned at Harry, and clearly said, "Hogwarts."

James disappeared from Professor Dumbledore's office with a pop.

"Now Harry, my boy." Harry turned to Dumbledore who was smiling softly at him. "How about directions to the Ravenclaw dorm?"

* * *

 **Hello, everyone! Sorry for the (relatively) long wait.**

 **What has happened? I went from posting several chapters a** _ **day**_ **to making you wait a few! My bad!**

 **But my real novel, which I am still writing, recently hit me over the head with an idea and I was forced to succumb to its will.**

 **But hey! Now we have Harry meet with Dumbledore and James, and some tension is created. I'm trying not to make Dumbledore this overly evil, cares only about himself and nothing else man, but instead, someone whose power, mind, and skills are to be respected. Because I mean, while I love all of the stories that have Harry kick everyone's butt, they don't seem realistic that a 15-year-old could bet a 150-year old. Get my drift?**

 **So this is a bit of a different story.**

 **But I have a recommendation for ya'll! I was recently binge-reading it and I'm about halfway through, but everyone check out** _ **Dodging Prison and Stealing Witches - Revenge is Best Served Raw**_ **. It's an amazing story that is about as opposite from 'Harry gets cool Lordships and the only thing he does is wear rings' as a story can get!**

 **But I mean, seriously. I once read a story where Harry got** _ **28 Lordships**_ **. Wha?**

 **So I've a little advice! If you're choosing powers for a character, pause for a second. If you do not have an entire plot point based around each of the character's unique powers, (i.e. not the normal powers that everyone has, like Harry being a wizard) then you don't need the powers! Simple as that!**

 **Peace out, everyone!**

 **Please read and review!**

 **Frost OUT!**


	18. Just a Touch Lost

"Take a left - no, wait…"

Harry groaned, leaning against a stone wall. Fox meowed comfortingly at his feet.

Professor Dumbledore, curse the man, had decided that he would just tell Harry the directions instead of writing it down, and had proceeded to stream out a list of lefts and rights until Harry couldn't even tell what was up or down. Then he had smiled at Harry and shooed him out of his office.

Harry had spent the entirety of the ride down the griffin trying to remember which way to turn first. He had been pretty sure it was left, and so had gone that way.

But now, after going up three flights of moving staircases that he had been very careful to tap each of their railings three times to freeze them, he was beyond lost.

The stone hallways, instead of sparking a memory of some direction Professor Dumbledore had told him, had seemed to twist his sense of where he was until he wasn't sure he could find his way to the nearest wall. If he could, Harry would have sworn the halls were moving.

Actually? This was a magic castle with moving staircases. He _would_ bet the corridors were moving, probably while he was in them.

Fox purred up at him, twining her tufted tail in-between his legs. He sighed and scratched her behind the ears.

"It's just like that time we got stuck in the forest, remember, Fox?" It had been a trip that started with him following a blue plant Harry had _sworn_ was a something-or-other he had seen in his book, and had ended with a darkening sky and a panicked feeling in his chest. But Fox, the smart kitten that she was, had simply sniffed the ground and started to walk. Harry had followed her; he trusted that cat more than he trusted the Dursley's, so if she went somewhere, he would follow. "You lead us home during that; can you do it again?"

The cat looked up at him, bright yellow eyes flicking over his face. She looked both ways down the corridor and meowed, distressed. She had never been here before; how could she lead him somewhere neither of them had been to?

Harry sighed. "Never mind, Fox. We'll forge our own destiny." He peered. On one path, there was a hint of a tapestry he could see. "I chose right!"

Right, for the first time, actually gave him some results. Right turned into a thick corridor that ended in a dead end, but at the very back, there was a portrait.

The portrait was of a woman. She was lacking in height but was blessed in girth, and fit rather snugly inside her picture. She was wearing a dark scarlet dress that was crimped along her necks and wrists and poofed around to fall in a stream around her ankles. Her hair, a dark wave highlighted with touches of lighter brown, was pinned to the back of her head in a loose bun that sent tendrils falling over her back. She was the strange combination between tan and pale, with piercing brown eyes.

It took Harry all of about three seconds to realize she was moving.

She waved the thick golden goblet she was holding at him. "Oi! Ravenclaw! What are you doing here?"

"What-" but Harry had barely a second to speak before she started off again.

"It's only the first day! How about you go to your own little tower on the _other_ side of Hogwarts because - oh, out you come, dear - us lions won't tolerate you sneaking into our tower any longer!"

A redhead poked its way out from behind the picture. It took Harry all of three seconds to recognize Ron, who looked around the corridor. But when the boy saw Harry, his eyes widened. He immediately began to walk out of the portrait, heading towards Harry.

"It's bad enough without you sneaks with those dastardly twins, always bringing in Puffs from heaven-knows-where!"

"Aw, Miss, we didn't know you thought so highly of us!" A voice echoed from behind Harry, but he didn't even have time to spin before a hand landed on his shoulder, tight enough to stop him from moving.

"Really, we thank you. 'Dastardly' is a first, though; wouldn't you say so, Fred?" A voice from Harry's right side said, and another hand clamped on his shoulder. The two hands were strong, and Harry quickly found that he couldn't move an inch in either direction.

"I concere. Normally it's 'scoundrels' and 'prats', though I am rather fond of 'devils', aren't you, George?" The voice on his left said.

"Ah, yes. The 'twin devils'; almost like our own mother, I dare say!"

The portrait huffed. "Oh, don't go confused me with your speech anymore, you two. Just take that Ravenclaw away from here!"

One of them chuckled. "Oh course, Miss. Right away!"

"Post haste!"

"Godspeed!"

The woman tried to growl, but the edges of her lips were quirking up. "Just go."

"Why, Fred, I believe that she might have been listening to us! A miracle!"

"Oi! Fred! George!" Ron called, nearly running down the corridor. Harry tried to make desperate eye contact with Ron, but before the red headed boy could even react, the two hands on his shoulders pulled him backward.

"Bye, Ronniekins!"

"We'll talk to you later!"

And then the two twins, Harry guessed, pulled him around the corridor and turned into a near full sprint. Harry choked, bouncing along between them, but soon they rounded another corridor and the hands left his shoulder.

Harry gasped, falling from their grip into the floor. With an 'oof!', his shoulder landed heavily on a flagstone. He groaned.

"Oops. Sorry, mate."

"Thought we dropped you softer."

"You can't drop him softer, it's stone!"

There was a pause.

"Hey, would mind calling your pet cat? Can't really pull off the whole 'disappearing act' thing if Ronniekins spots your familiar running toward us."

Harry lifted his head and was rewarded when a gray shape bolted around the corner and landed in front of him. A snarl echoed around the dead end as Fox crouched protectively in front of him.

"Aw, the kitten's got fangs!"

Harry pushed himself up, thanking God that his glasses had managed to stay on. He stretched up, landing on his feet. Then he was able to turn and get a look at his kidnappers.

His first thought was that they were identical.

They each had a brilliant red shock of hair that was poking out from their heads like they had been struck by lightning. Their skin was pale but in a natural way, but all it did was pave the way for the endless waves of freckles splashed over their entire face. They were tall, towering at least half a head above Harry. They both had matching mischievous grins on their faces.

"Who are you?" He asked, a mixture of nerves and suspicion.

The twins shared a look, each turning their heads at the same time. Then, with a synchronized formal bow, they announced, "We are-"

"Fred," the twin on the left said,

"And George," the other twin followed up with,

"Weasley, pranking extraordinaires."

"Weasley?" Harry tilted his head to one side. "Does that mean you're-"

"-relates to that charming redheaded boy who's currently been chatting up the common room, saying how he's going to become best friends with the great Harry Potter? Why yes, we are!" Fred grinned at him.

"Wait- what's he been saying about me?"

"No." George reached forward and bonked Harry sharply on the nose. "He's been saying that about Harry _Potter_ , not Harry _Lakeson_ -Potter."

"Though, quite frankly," Fred butted in, "bet he'll be in for a right surprise when he meets you."

"Definitely. You're a bit of a git, mate."

"Our words, soon to be his."

Harry wondered how their professors didn't just always kick them out every one of their classes.

He suddenly prayed up to every deity he knew that he never had any classes with them.

Harry idly noticed that the twins were standing directly in front of the exit to the dead end, arms crossed. One of them glanced over his shoulder before grinning. "Ron's gone the other way," he muttered to George. A smile slipped over both of their faces, so wide Harry could see their teeth.

"So! What's a Ravenclaw firstie doing around here?"

Harry frowned, eyebrows lowering. "How do you know I'm a Ravenclaw?"

Fred suddenly looked like he could be on the floor, shaking from restrained tears. George was exactly the same.

"Harry, would you mind looking down for a single second?"

He did, looking at the black robes he wore. But it only took him about a second to notice that they weren't the same as when he bought them. Instead, now they were edged with a bright blue, all around the bottom hem, the sleeves, and the collar; the same bright blue he had seen on the Ravenclaw flag.

"I think that our dear Harry Potter has never been to Hogwarts before, has he?"

"Outstandingly, my good friend. Otherwise, he'd never come near the Gryffindor Tower."

Harry nearly collapsed. "This is the _Gryffindor_ Tower?"

The twins exchanged a look. "What did you expect, the Library?"

Harry huffed. "Professor Dumbledore told me that this was the way to the Ravenclaw common room!"

Fred looked like he was holding back peals of laughter. "Harry, 'fraid to tell you that your on nearly the exact opposite of the castle."

George wasn't much better. "You're even a level too high; for such a powerful man, Dumbledore is rats with directions, apparently. Always good to know; maybe we could start up a market where we take poor firsties where they need to go!"

"We'd make a killing," Fred agreed.

But Harry zeroed in on only one thing he had noticed. "You know where it is? The Tower?"

Fred smirked. "Harry, we couldn't exactly be pranking extraordinaires if we didn't know where everything was."

"Yeah, that'd be a bit of a problem." He scratched the back of his head, but in about half a second Fred mirrored him. Did these twins do _everything_ together?

"Can you tell me?" Harry nearly begged.

"Aw, an ickle firstie needs our help, Fred?" George turned to the left, staring at his twin.

Fred nodded in satisfaction. "It would appear that way, George."

They both grinned at Harry, who was getting increasingly nervous. "But you said you know where it is, right?" At their in-sync nods, Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Then why won't you help me out? I really need to get there before dark!"

And really, it was much closer to night than Harry could have wanted. In the one window, he could see across the hall, the sky was well past blue and more onto its way of black. Stars already twinkled in the small patch of sky he could see, and he did not want any more to appear.

"Well, that would cost you." Fred grinned at him.

Harry tensed. "Do you want money? I don't have very much on me." Fox gave a worried meow by his side.

George gasped in mock horror. "Why, Harry, we are more than common criminals!" He put a hand on his chest like he was in shock.

Fred nodded, head bouncing like a spring. "Of course! We are but twin devils!" His hand went up and slammed into place on his chest as well.

Harry paused, heart picking up the pace just a little bit. "What do you want, then? I _have_ to get down!"

The twins shared a mischievous glance. " _Have_ to, you say?" Eyebrows quirking and lips smirking, they turned back to Harry.

Fred sucked in a deep breath, schooling his face into something that could hardly pass for formal. "Do you have-" he fixed Harry with a bright stare. "the Ravenclaw password?"

Harry opened his mouth and then cocked his head to one side. "Er, Professor Dumbledore told me something and said it was the answer?"

George slapped a hand to his forehead. "Fred, the Ravenclaw Tower makes you answer a riddle, remember?"

Fred shrugged. "Well, it'd be nice to know it, anyway." He grinned at Harry. "We'll take you down to the Tower."

Harry sighed in relief. "Thank you."

Fox hissed batting a paw at the stone. The twins both looked down and then at each other, visibly fighting back laughter. "Well George, now we've got a dangerous escort to protect us from all harm. Off we go!" Fox nearly pounced forward, shooting up to arrive right at their feet. She sniffed each of them in turn, walking around their feet. Then she sat back and meowed, once. Fred raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything.

They reached out as one and grabbed one of Harry's arms, though not with the same gripping strength that they had used before. Then, with Fox trotting along behind them, they swept Harry out of the dead end and into the corridor. They hardly seemed to stop, just pulling Harry along the stone hallways. He quickly found his footing and was trotting in-between them, but they didn't seem like they cared that they were holding him.

They led him down a flight of stairs that they didn't even make a motion to freeze, and the railings were twitching when they got off. Then it was through a stone corridor or two, and then the twins stopped.

"Well, here we are! Go up and tell the password, will you?" Fred - or Harry at least thought it was Fred; he was sure that they had someone switched positions while they were walking - cheerfully announced.

There was a large door in the middle of the corridor. It was of average height but was made of a wonderful dark wood. There were runes etched over the entire thing that glimmered like the molten silver poured into each of them. It was an amazing effect. But Harry very quickly noticed that there wasn't a handle, whether on the door or near it.

Instead, right in the middle, there was a knocker. It was a light bronze, shining brightly. Harry couldn't even see a handprint on it. The entire thing was modeled in the form of an eagle, with its two wings coming up to form a ring above its head. Its beak looked sharp enough to cut through the bronze itself.

He took a step closer and watched as the eagle came to life. It lifted its head, bronze eyes bright. It opened its beak and began to talk.

"You may glimpse me within the water, but never shall I get wet. What am I?" Its voice was smooth but blank, monotone with no emotions.

"Go on, Harry." A twin urged. "What's the answer?"

"Er- Professor Dumbledore told me your reflection?" Harry answered the door, his feet shuffling.

The eagle nodded, lowering its head and going back to its regular position. Then, ever so slowly, the rune-etched door began to slide open. Harry waited for a second before stepping through.

The room was incredible.

It was large and perfectly circular. The bookshelves, the windows, even the floors curved in time with the shape of the walls, and Harry couldn't see anything that looked square of angular in the room. All along the back wall were towering bookshelves, ones with a single attached ladder that was currently whizzing around from shelf to shelf, extending up and down. Books lined nearly every available surface.

Comfy-looking chairs were thrown nearly everywhere over the floor. Some were aided by a table but most were just thrown around, some right in front of the entrance. There were torches over every open space on the walls, curving in the circular shape despite that being nearly impossible.

Several of the bookshelves had spaces carved out in the middle of them, and in that space were windows, towering things that seemed not to exist. The Tower seemed to just open up to the black sky, stars shining brightly.

And right in the middle of the room were two people. One was a girl wearing black robes with a golden pin on the front with the letter _P_ on it. She was talking to Professor Flitwick, who looked distressed. But the man instantly perked up when he saw Harry enter the room.

"Mr. Potter!" He said, walking quickly toward him. "Where have you been? I was about to send someone to find you!"

Harry's eyes widened. "Er- Professor Dumbledore gave me instructions, but I ended up by the Gryffindor Tower, instead."

"The Gryffindor Tower? But that's on the clear other side of school!" Professor Flitwick frowned.

"Two Weasley twins helped me find here, and Professor Dumbledore had told me the password."

Professor Flitwick let out a deep breath before smiling. "It really shouldn't surprise me that those twins know where our common room is, honestly. But I am still confused; the Gryffindor Tower is on the other side of the school. How did you end up there?"

"I don't know," Harry answered. "I must have just followed the directions wrong."

* * *

 **IMPORTANT A/N**

* * *

 **Hey, ya'll! A new chapter, out only 16 hours passed when the previous was written! Go me!**

 **So now this chapter is something I've never seen done before, and I'm particularly proud of it. Harry gets** _ **lost**_ **, but the Weasley twins help him find his way back to his dorm, for the price of the password. And now I've made Harry know someone in the school other than Neville, and placed some doubt on Professor Flitwick's** **mind! Go me!**

 **Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this chapter. It's bloody** _ **hard**_ **to write the twins, as I'm sure you all know. But I want to try something.**

 **So, lessons are coming up. But what I want to do is something a bit special. I want you people, my readers, to submit a spell or plant that you want me to have the professors teach Harry! I don't think that this has ever been done before, and I want to see if I can do it!**

 **So, either through PM or a review, please tell me a** _ **first-year**_ **potion, spell, or plant, and I'll try to put it in the story! Thanks!**

 **Please read and review! Come on guys; we're nearly to 200 reviews! Push it!**

 **Frost OUT!**


	19. Padma and a Map

Harry awoke with a yawn.

The blankets he was on were soft and warm, and he willing snuggled deeper into them. Harry remembered that they were a light blue, big and thick and fluffy. The sheets below were a dark silver, and Harry remembered that they were particularly soft.

But something even softer pressed into his side, meowing softly. Harry grinned and stroked a hand over his pet. One of her large ears flicked back toward him, but her eyes stayed closed.

But then scales flicked over his hand, and Harry turned his head and saw a small gray snake curled in a tight ball on his pillow, only a few inches from Harry's nose. He jerked.

"Abrin!"

Harry scrabbled at the covers before he sat up in a sitting position, nearly knocking Fox loose. She meowed, annoyed, at him, before shifting over the end of the bed.

"What are you doing? Anyone could see you!" Harry hissed furiously under his breath, looking around. But the curtains from the bed hung over every side, blocking him from view. His chest beat with a dull _thud_.

" _Do not worry. Your nest-mates sleep even sounder than the man you live with_." Abrin tucked himself into a tighter ball, tail twitching. His gray-brown scales glittered in the light streaming through the cracks in the curtains. " _Besides, it is much too cold to stay inside that pocket of yours_."

Harry stiffened. " _You went out? Into the room_?"

Abrin fixed him with a sleepy stare. " _What do you think? It is dreadfully boring being trapped for several hours in your robes_." His black tongue flickered out from his mouth. " _Besides, that vine you grabbed was warm and comforting_."

Harry nearly growled. But Abrin just turned over and fell back to sleep, his black tongue flickering out once more before hiding away. Fox meowed at Harry, pawing at the sheets. Harry winced as he saw three lines rip themselves through the fabric.

"Fox!" Harry yelped, arms shooting out. He pushed the cat, who merely tilted her head, flicked her tail, and hopped neatly off of the bed. Harry sighed and turned around.

" _Abrin_?" He hissed.

The Adder stayed put for a few seconds before he raised his head and looked at Harry. " _What is it_?"

" _Will you stay here_?" Harry looked over the bed. The covers could hide a snake pretty well, especially one that was only a meter long.

The grey-scaled snake looked over at the bed and then at the curtains that covered everything from view. " _I have no wish to stay inside your pocket for the entirety of the day. Bring back some form of meat and that will be fine_."

Harry nodded. That was perfectly fine. He _really_ didn't want Abrin to be caught.

But then his mind fell farther and farther down the train of thought. What _would_ happen if Abrin was caught? Harry didn't really _want_ to think about that, but his brain kept bringing up answers and the more.

Would they send Abrin back to James? That was the best case scenario because as James was _his_ and Abrin was also _his_ and he trusted James to protect his snake. Harry had Fox and could wait until the holidays to see his snake again, and then he'd probably find another way to sneak the adder in. He was only a meter long.

But Abrin was a venomous snake. Were wizards as prejudiced against poisons and venoms as regular people? Harry hoped beyond hope that they weren't. Because then Abrin could be sent away, to some form of magical zoo or something. Or even killed.

Harry's chest tightened. With one last look at his snake, he opened up the curtains on his bed and walked out.

The room was painted a light blue, the same color as the covers on each of the beds. There was silver crown molding over the top of the walls, glimmering as the light hit it. At one end of the room, there was a nearly floor-to-ceiling window that was so clear Harry thought that he could walk through it. There were three other beds in the room, one directly next to the window and one in the middle and then one closer to his bed. Harry had gotten stuck with one closest to the door, but he wasn't that upset over it.

They each had a small wooden bedside table. Harry had dumped his moleskine bag in the one drawer right after he walked in.

He could see the other boys that he was sleeping with. Because there were six new Ravenclaw boys, they were split into two rooms, one with three and one with four. Harry knew he was with Kevin and someone called Anthony Goldstein because it was sorted alphabetically. But in the bed next to him slumbered Neville, though his curtains were closed. The other two boys were both dead asleep, and Harry could see why. The sky he could see outside was dark, but there were still tendrils of dawn sneaking over the horizon.

Fox purred at his feet, pawing at him with one paw until he looked down. With a gentle sigh, Harry reached downed and scratched her behind the ears. She meowed until he stopped, before curling up into a ball. Her brilliant yellow eyes closed.

Harry looked over the room, before spotting his trunk. It was sitting by the end of his bed, closed up and latched. He padded toward it, kneeling down in front of it. The latch was rather stubborn and it took a few times, but eventually, Harry managed to open it.

The second of his three robes was sitting rather un-neatly in his trunk, but Harry quickly pulled it out. He was wearing just a simple blue shirt and trousers. James had bought them for him when they had discovered that Harry had plenty of money. He had a few more pairs in the trunk, and Harry would be using them as his pajamas as well. Easier on him, anyway.

Would they have to wash their own clothes? Harry was confused.

He slipped the robe on quickly, the heavy fabric tugging as his shoulders. Harry grimaced and readjusted it. His wand was slipping into the pocket on the side of the robes, the black length shining. By now the light was fully shining through the window, and he could see Kevin beginning to stir. But Harry walked over the large wooden door and pushed it open. Fox was instantly at his heels, ready to follow him.

The common room was nearly empty except for Padma Patil, dressed in her robes and with a book tucked underneath her arm. Both of them perked up when they saw each other, and Harry quickly made his way over to her.

"Padma!" He called, quickly snapping up her attention. She turned to him, head tilting to one side.

She waited as he ran the last few steps and arrived in front of her, still looking confused. There was a second where her eyes widened as she looked at his forehead, but then she blushed ever-so-slightly and schooled her face again.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Er- do you know what we do?" He asked, reddening as his voice squeaked.

Padma's brows furrowed and her lips pursed. "I think we go down to breakfast, but I'm not positive."

Harry looked around the room. The doors to all of the other rooms were closed, and Harry couldn't see anyone else in the common area. "Want to just go down?"

Padma nodded.

Harry let out a breath of relief. "Oh, thank goodness. I didn't want to just be the only one going down."

Padma let out a surprised laugh, eyes bright. Harry grinned rather sheepishly at her, red blooming up his neck.

Padma turned and walked toward the entrance to the common room, the same large, wooden door etched in all of those silver runes. She paused before placing a hand on it. When she pushed, the door slid open like it wasn't even there at all.

Another feather-light charm. These things were everywhere!

Together, they walked out of the common room and into the hallway. Harry looked from left to right- which one could possibly be the correct way? - but then Padma was already moving, reaching over for her book. She looked over at Harry and gestured him over. He did so, confused, at least until she opened up the cover of her book.

It was incredibly thin, seemingly only a dozen pages or so. But as she pulled it open, Harry saw that there weren't words over the pages. It was a mess of scribbled lines and blank pages.

But then she shoved the open book in Harry's arm. Harry held it, confused, but then Padma grabbed the two pages and _pulled_.

And they came apart. The pages extended, falling out of the book and reaching much farther than the cover itself. Padma kept pulling, starting to walk backward, when the tension stopped. Harry looked down.

The entire thing was a map. There were corridors, rooms, the entrance, and a small, one-inch border that showed some of the grounds outside. Padma looked at it for a few seconds before pointing. "That's where we are."

Harry looked and saw a medium sized room with the words _Ravenclaw Tower_ written over them. Harry looked over the page again and saw that some rooms were labeled as classroom, there was the Great Hall and even professor's offices! He noticed something was missing.

"Where are the other common rooms?" Harry asked, tilting his head to one side.

Padma looked up at him. "You know our robes, how they turned blue after we were Sorted? Same with this. I don't know how it sensed that, but it only shows the Ravenclaw Tower."

"Where did you get this?" Harry _definitely_ wanted one for himself.

"It was right behind the school book section in Flourish and Blotts." Padma was stilling pouring over the page, using her finger to trace a path from where they were to the Great Hall. The book was rather heavy but Harry didn't mention it.

Harry's jaw dropped. "What? You mean I could have gotten one of these?"

Padma grinned, showing white teeth that contrasted with her dark skin. "I guess so. They were only five Galleons as well."

An angry breath flew out of Harry's mouth.

Padma laughed. "I'm sure you can owl-order one, it wouldn't be that difficult."

Harry frowned. "But I don't have an owl, though." His cat meowed at his feet, and Harry nearly knelt to scratch her before remembering the book in his hands. "Just Fox."

Padma shrugged. "Use a school owl, then. I heard there/s over twenty - you should be able to find one that can do it for you."

Harry's eyes brightened. "I can use owls here?"

Padma looked at him. "I don't see why not." Then she looked over at the book one last time before grabbing the two corners. With one last pull, she closed the book right up, the meter-by-meter page folding into two normal-sized ones. She carefully took the book from Harry's rather exhausted arms.

"Okay. We go right."

And from there on out, it was a rather simple journey to the Great Hall. Padma, as it turned out, had a mind like a steel trap and found each turn or staircase they need with perfect precision, leaving Harry to scamper behind her. He tried and tried to remember a _single_ one of the turns, but failed rather miserably. Fox seemed to easily follow them both, tail lazily twitching even as she nearly sprinted down hallways.

"Hey, Padma?" The girl hummed to show she was listening but kept her eyes forward as she sped down another corridor. Harry groaned and trotted to catch up with her.

"Er- do you mind if I just follow you down every morning? I'll never find my way around here."

The girl smiled and nodded her head.

"Oh, thank you." Harry grinned back and with one more step, they had arrived at the Great Hall doors.

"How do we open them?" Harry winced. The very tops of each of them seemed to be at least three of him, maybe four. He had to crane his neck to see all the way to the very top.

"Just push, I guess."

And together, they each put their hands on the left door and pushed. There was a second and then the door slid open. In only a heartbeat, there was a hole wide enough for both of them to walk through. They did so, Fox right on their heels.

The room was enormous as ever, and Harry couldn't help how his mouth dropped as he stared around at everything. But then there was a soft _thud_ as the door automatically snapped shut as soon as they were out of its range.

Magic.

Padma spotted the blue-covered table and so they both sped toward it, finding too empty spots across from each other. They sat down, Harry surrounded by empty seats while Padma had a girl - Cho Chang, Harry thought - on her other side. Harry looked down at the table and smiled.

There were bowls upon bowls of fruit, oatmeal, and the like. He didn't see any cereal - maybe wizards were allergic to it or something - but there were muffins and pancakes and glistening platters full of breakfast meat. Harry lunged for the bacon.

He scooped several onto his plate and, with another thought, grabbed the bowl of strawberries. Padma had shot right toward the pancakes and syrup, nearly dumping all of them on her plate. Cho smiled as the Indian witch blushed.

The table wasn't very full, for the entire length there was only about eleven people, most of them older than Padma and Harry. Nearly all of them, already done with their food, were staring at the teacher's table.

"Professor Flitwick is going to give us our timetables," Cho explained. "That's what tells us when we go to a classroom and when we have free time to study."

Harry tilted his head to one side. "When does he hand these out?"

Chp's lips pursed. "Well, he does it three times. Once for the earlier risers, another for the people who come an hour later, and then the super late people. He should be delivering in only a few moments."

And indeed, the quite short man had stood up from the professor's teacher. There was only Professor Flitwick, Professor Dumbledore, and a tall woman with the same dark skin as Padma.

Professor Dumbledore was staring nearly directly at Harry. His brows were lowered, his fingers pressed together underneath his chin. But when Harry looked back at him, he simply smiled but didn't look away. Harry's eyes burned.

But by then Professor Flitwick had reached the end of the table, and he had pulled out a stack of papers. He started with a blond haired boy at the end, shuffling through the sheets until he found one. He handed it to the boy, who thanked him, looked it over, and immediately stood up. He left the Great Hall before Professor Flitwick had even gotten to the next person.

"Where's he going?" Harry asked, directing his question to Cho.

Cho followed his gaze. "Oh, Damian? He has a class first thing, so he's 'got' to go to his room to gather his books and everything. Don't worry about it; Damian always has to be early for every class, you don't have to leave this early. If you've got a class first thing, you still have at least half an hour before you should go back to your room."

"Oh. Thanks," he offered to Cho. She simply waved it off and went back to waiting for Professor Flitwick.

The man took about three minutes to get down to Harry's side of the table, and Harry had taken to throwing bits and pieces of sausage and bacon to Fox, who happily snapped them up. Suddenly remembering, he took three full sausages and wrapped them up in a napkin before slipping it into his pocket.

By then, Professor Flitwick had arrived at Harry. There were a few moments of shuffling through the list, and then he produced a thin yellow sheet of parchment and handed it to Harry.

"Don't get lost again, Mr. Potter!" The man chuckled warmly.

Harry blushed. "I'll avoid that, sir."

Professor Flitwick smiled at him before moving on to the next person. Harry started to look over the paper, pausing as he looked at the first thing.

"DADA?" Harry frowned. Was he supposed to know what that meant?"

"Oh, that." Cho pointed to it on her own schedule. "They write that to save space. It stands for Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"What's that? I haven't gotten to that part of the book yet."

"Oh, it's like defensive magic. Spells that can harm other people and the like."

Harry frowned, confused etching its way up his mind. "They teach that to us? But we're only first years!"

Cho brushed it off. "Don't worry. They don't teach you anything really dangerous the first year, Although." She squinted up at the professor's table. "We're never had Professor Quirrell teach Defense, either. Maybe you will." She thanked Professor Flitwick for her timetable, looking over it.

Harry looked over his paper once more before his face paled."We've got _five_ lessons today?"

Cho peered over his shoulder before chuckling. "Oh, don't worry. The first classes are normally introductory classes, but then, again, it could always change. As the years go on the classes get longer but you have less per day."

"Thanks." Cho just nodded.

"I'm always around to answer questions; don't worry about. If you need more information, always go to a prefect. We stand up for each other."

Padma looked over her timetable before speaking up. "I've got Defense first, too."

Harry's eyes brightened. "You've got it first?" He stared at the book sitting next to her plate.

Harry grinned at Padma. "Lead the way?"

* * *

 **Hey! Not dead!**

 **Sorry for the rather long wait. (It was like five days)**

 **But this story is always going to take a backseat to my novel, which will, I don't know, earn me actual money. Sorry about that, but my story was starting to unravel and I had to take a few days to get it back up. Basically, just me cramming things into the outline that I hoped fit and then promising to edit it all later.**

 **Eh.**

 **But now we have some Padma-Harry friendship! My favorite types of stories are where Harry becomes friends with people that he barely even talks to in the actual story. Like Parvati, Blaise, Justin, Michael, anyone like that. It's really cool, they're not an OC, but you can kind of give them their own personality.**

 **But Harry's got DADA next! What spell do you suggest they learn? But I've got another important question for you.**

 **What do you guys think? Should Quirrel actually be competent because Harry is a Ravenclaw and he feels that, because Harry is actually kind of smart, he needs to keep his cover better? Or should I have him a stuttering, terrible fool?**

 **Leave your answer in the comments below!**

 **Please read and review!**

 **Frost OUT!**


	20. Professor Quirrell and Defense

Padma's map was a lifesaver.

The two of them were sitting at the end of the table, Cho and most of the other older years already gone. The food didn't seem to grow cold or ever empty, though Harry had noticed the plate of bacon suddenly being refilled as if by magic. He and Padma had their own little corner at the end, and so Fox had no problem clambering up onto the seat and eating off of the plate and sausage near her. And if Harry noticed that the plate kept reappearing in other positions on the table before Fox would find it and start eating again, he didn't say anything.

They had spread it out, pushing plates and glasses out of the way. Padma had very carefully marked where they were with a finger and had Harry put his hand on the Defense classroom, and was currently tracing the path with her eyes. Every so often she would growl and then look back to the Great Hall, finding another path.

"Got it!" She suddenly declared. Harry stepped back, removing his finger from the map. They both grabbed an edge and pushed the map back, watching it fold up until it was the size of two pages again. Padma, with a grin on her face, grabbed the two covers and flicked them shut.

"You'll lead me?" Harry nearly begged. He remembered they should turn left once they left the Great Hall but that was completely it.

Padma laughed. "Of course I will, Harry. I can see that I was the only one to get this map, so I guess I'll lead everyone around until we find our way."

"Oh, thank Merlin," a voice said, relieved. Neville had come down only a few minutes after they got their timetables, quickly catching Professor Flitwick before he went back up to the professor's table. He had snarfed down everything he could eat, trying to go fast enough to catch up with Harry and Padma.

Though, he had complained in rather loud tones about Harry abandoning him in the common room. Harry had blushed and turned back to help Padma out with the map.

"Ready to go?" He asked Neville, who nodded. The boy grabbed the remaining bit of his muffin and stood, the few crumbs falling off of his robes. Padma straightened her long black braid, Harry tapped Fox on the head to get her attention, and off they went.

They quickly went back up to the common room, where they each grabbed their books. Every wizard and witch worth their name kept their wand on them, at least that was what Harry had heard. So he had kept it tucked inside of his pocket.

The three links of sausage were quickly given to Abrin when Neville turned away, and the Adder hissed thanks and pulled them underneath the cover. Harry had heard slight crunching sounds before he had pulled the curtains shut again.

As almost an afterthought, Harry had grabbed the vine he had found and draped it over his bed posts. It looked rather nice, he thought.

At least until he had to study it.

Together, he and Neville exited the room and went back to the common room. Padma was waiting, and together they set off again. This time, it took Padma a few seconds at each turn, but she still walked forward with the same confidence.

Fox trotted neatly behind Padma, who had nearly pounced on the cat. The hybrid seemed to adore Padma with every part of her soul, and Harry was a bit nervous. If something that was _his_ claimed something else, would he be forced to claim that thing as _his_ as well? Padma wasn't a bad person - quite to opposite, really - but was Fox just going to go around and chose everyone she wanted?

But in only a few minutes after that, they arrived in front of an ordinary wooden door. Harry paused before pushing it open, and everyone followed him in.

The classroom was rather boring looking for a first glance. There were rows upon rows of wooden desks with a single foot of space on every side, very uncomfortable chairs paired with each one. There was a blackboard at the front of the class along with a desk that looked like it had survived a few too many cat attacks.

But there were also plenty of interesting things.

Along one wall of the classroom, there was a window that nearly covered the entire length of the wall. It had a heavy curtain drawn over it, a soft blue worn in several places. There was a hint of light spilling out from the ground that looked almost _green_.

In the back, Harry quickly noticed that there was a large wooden door in the very corner. There was a rather large lock on the door and no visible key in sight.

On top of the desk, there was a thin rope that seemed to be nearly quivering. The very end of it looked dark red as if something had been splattered against it.

There were a few other students, ones wearing yellow tinged robes. Most of them were in the middle, which left the front or the back. Harry, after a few moments of dithering, chose one of the front rows seats and sat down. Fox sat down by his side, tail touching his leg before curling around his ankle.

Neville took a seat at his left, the one closest to the door. He held tight onto his wand, dropping his books, _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find them_ along with _The Dark Forces; A Guide to Self-Protection_ , onto his desk.

Padma grabbed the one on his other side. She neatly arranged her books in one corner of her desk before setting her wand next to them.

More and more students trickled in, though there seemed to be only twelve students overall. Seven from Ravenclaw, five from Hufflepuff. Kevin took the seat next to Padma, his own books looking a bit worse for wear.

But they only had to wait a few minutes after that when a door next to the blackboard at the front of the room opened. And in strode a very strange man.

He had the normal black robes like the rest of them were wearing, not having any color or pattern on it like some of the other professor's. He had pale skin but the strangest thing was the dark purple turban strapped around his head, covering nearly all of his forehead.

He strode up in front of the blackboard, door hissing to a shut behind him. His robes swirled as he walked like a wind.

"M-my name is Professor Quirrell," he announced. His voice was rather nervous, but his position was strong. "I am yo-your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

With a simple flick of his wrist, a wand shot into his hand. It was long and a pale yellow-white, the end tapered to a sharp point. He swished it through the air, and words began to appear on the blackboard behind him.

"I will-l not sit up here and explain to you that dark arts are a thing of the past and th-that my classes name is merely a joke. For dark arts are still among us today, such as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

There were gasps along the room.

"While he may be gone, there are others who will rise. And th-that is why I am here to prepare you for when this will happen."

"This i-is not a class for spells. That is for every other professor to teach you. I do not trust first years with the rather dangerous spells t-that come with this class."

 _No spells_ appeared on the blackboard behind him. It took everything Harry had to stop the groan building up behind his throat.

"Instead, I will teach you about dark things found in this world. Such as creatures, artifacts, and spells." Those three words appeared on the board.

"I have brought an example for each of these. For my first lesson, creatures, I-I will show you something t-to show that these things are not to be treated lightly." Every student seemed to lean in closer as Professor Quirrell snapped his wand forward.

Instantly, the heavy blue curtain began to slide backward. Slowly, it exposed a window. There was no sky outside, only something that caused the light to turn a sickly green. It was only when a small black fish glided past the window that Harry realized what they were looking at.

"Th-this, students, is the Black Lake. It is currently the safest way to let you see-e magical creatures without coming in any close contact with them, so we will be studying creatures through here." He gestured to something off in the distance. "S-such as the Giant Squid."

There was a pause, and then a soft squeal. Off in the distance of the rather murky water, Harry could see a strange silhouette in the distance. It was only there for a second before something long and thin swiped through the water, propelling the shape away from their sight.

"I will cast spells to attract it to the window when we need to see it," Professor Quirrell said with very little emotion in his voice, but when Harry looked over he saw the barest hint of a smile on the man's face. With another flick from his wand, the curtain began to slide shut again. The man walked back over to his desk, where the rope was lying.

"Though a-apparently, we don't have to go very far to see a magical creature." Professor Quirrell's eyes snapped to Harry.

Or, more precisely, at the cat by his side.

Fox, as if noticing his attention on her, tilted her head to one side. With careful steps, ignoring Harry's hiss for her to stay, she marched right up to Professor Quirrell. She sat down, staring at him.

Professor Quirrell, nearly instantly, averted hi gaze and looked back at the students. "She is a kneazle-Lynx mix, i-is she not?" He asked, voice surprisingly steady.

Harry nodded. "Her name is Fox, sir."

The man's eyes sharpened. "We-well then, class, a few facts for you. Lynxes have amazing eyesight-t, but magic has only emphasized that. They are able to see through wards of any kind, and compulsion or distraction spells do not work on them. They are often thought of as being 'keeper of truths'. But kn-kneazles, on the other hand, have their own set of skills. They can sense distrust or ill-will in humans toward their own."

Fox sneezed.

"But, Mr. Potter, I will a-ask you not to bring Miss Fox to class again. Fa-familiars are not normally brought to class as they can disrupt it, so s-she may want to stay in your dorm during classes."

Harry's face bloomed. "Of course, sir." With a quick hand motion and whispered beg, Fox trotted back over to his seat and laid down next to him. But her bright eyes never left Quirrell.

"I w-will also teach you about magical artifacts. More precisely, the d-dark ones." Quirrell gestured to the rope on his desk. Harry could have sworn he saw the very edge twitch.

"Th-this is known as the Hangman's Rope, and it is something very dark I was able to find within Magical Britain itself." Professor Quirrell's wand was already in his hand, but now he seemed to hold it more tightly. His eyes were fixed on the rope.

Harry could definitely see it moving now; the very edge, the red tip, was twitching closer and closer to Professor Quirrell, never quite lifting off of the desk. Harry's neck hair straightened like someone had blown cold hair over them.

"When any human comes in contact with this, the rope with animate. I-it will attempt to strangle the person that touches it and will not stop until it does."

"You just _left_ that there?" A rather shrill voice echoed out from the room. Harry couldn't see from who but knew it was behind him. "What if one of us had touched it? We could be _dead_!"

Professor Quirrell shot the person a very, very cold look. "The Hangman's Rope, after I found it, has a permanent protection ward cast around it. It is impossible to touch." His hand shot forward and he made to grab the end, lifting it off the desk. But Harry could see there was a one-inch gap around the rope from where he grabbed it. "None of you are in any danger from this, Miss. Perks."

There was a squeak.

"The f-final thing I will teach you is ab-about is spells." Professor glanced around the room.

"I will be c-casting every spell, but do not worry about not n-needing your wand." Professor Quirrell shot forward and landed in front of Padma. She and most everyone in the class squeaked, but Quirrell simply shot his hand down and snatched up her hand.

He twirled it through his fingers. "I am also teaching you how to defend yourself. I can hardly do that when you do not even keep your wand on y-you. What could I do now?" Carefully, he grabbed one end of her wand in each hand. "I co-could snap it, and you would then be powerless."

Quirrell casually tossed her wand back on her desk, and Padma snatched it up. Her grip on the wood was tight enough Harry could almost think the wood was splintering.

"I w-will be teaching you how to keep yourself-lf safe without casting spells, and that is what this room is for. He gestured to the door in the back of the classroom, starting to walk toward it. "Pl-please leave your books behind."

Harry stood, and Fox lazily got to her feet alongside him. "No, stay here, Fox. I'll be back soon." The cat looked up at him, blinked twice, before laying back on the floor. Her tail twitched.

Professor Quirrell led them to the door before pushing it open. Beyond it, there was mainly darkness. But Quirrell simply flicked his wand and then light bloomed from torches spaced alongside the walls, bright and brilliant. Harry winced.

But then gasped as he saw the room.

It was near twice the size of the classroom, walls stretching out. But the room wasn't empty; not nearly so.

Every few feet, there was a shape. Some resembled trees, others rocks, others hunks and chunks of seemingly nothing at all. Some were linked together while others were spread apart.

"Th-this is the training room. Here is what will happen." Professor Quirrell gestured to an empty spot right in the middle of the room, one with a circle carved around it. All around the edges, there were more shapes than ever.

"I w-will stand in the middle with my wand. If I se-see any part of you, I will fire a stinging hex." He gave a slight chuckle. "I do not miss."

"Yo-your task is to enter the circle on the ground without getting stung. The only rule is that when you are stung, you must head back to one of the corners of the room." Professor Quirrell fixed them with a steely gaze. "I-I will know if y-you don't go-o back to a corner."

Several students quickly nodded their heads. Harry was among them.

"Eventually, once we get into second year or even the end of the first year, it will be one of you in the center of the room. I will not be-e teaching y-you the stinging hex in class, so if you do not want to lose terribly I-I suggest the li-library as your next de-destination."

Everyone nodded this time, eyes fixed on Professor Quirrell.

"I do-o not have much more to te-tell you. In this class, it i-is not like the others. Charms, wh-where you learn certain i-incantations and wand m-movements or in Transfiguration, where-e there are few sayings but different intent-ts. Here, I will teach you things that you can use any sp-spell with. I wi-will teach you tactics, defensive ma-manorvers, creatures; all without you picking u-up a wand. My job for you first years is to teach y-you how to _use_ your wand, no-not cast with them."

Everyone was transfixed until, suddenly, a loud _bring_ echoed through the room. Harry jumped.

Professor Quirrell sighed. "Th-that is all for today. I believe you have a break and then History of Magic; th-this would be a pre-perfect time to pick up yo-your textbooks and read a l-little about defensive magic. I-I'm sure the library must have something extra if y-you want more."

Nearly every student nodded. Professor Quirrell gestured to the door and they started moving. For only twelve people it took an enormous amount of time to leave, but then they were in the classroom, picking up books and Fox, and then they were in the hallway, reeling from the lesson.

"That was wicked," Harry said to Padma. His eyes were still wide and his heart beat just a little faster. "I can't wait to start learning this; can you?"

Padma was still holding onto her wand just a little tighter than before, but her face was bright and her voice excited. "Me neither; can you imagine the stuff we'll learn? He's going to be amazing!"

Harry grinned. "Definitely."

* * *

 **Yay me! Another chapter on the same day, and reaching 20 chapters no less! I'M SO PROUD**

 **Okay! So we have a Quirrell who knows his stuff, still stutters, but isn't nearly as bad as before. I think this is a new approach, and I hope you enjoy!**

 **Someone brought up the point that Quirrell has been creating this persona around him for years, and I realize that that is a very good point. But I feel that this side of Quirrell would be more smart, as sometimes Riddle is moot about. Quirrell blending in with the rest of the teachers by being competent and even becoming Harry's favorite teacher seems a much smarter move than being pitied.**

 **Anyway.**

 **Thanks to mermaid1108 for suggesting the idea plan behind Professor Quirrell! I do take credit for the window and artifact, but she suggested both the room and ideas for the creatures and artifacts. Good for her!**

 **Anway! Please read and review!**

 **Frost OUT!**


	21. Library Spells

History of Magic was boring beyond all belief.

They - being Harry, Neville, and Padma - had spent the hour after Professor Quirrell's amazing class pouring over her map, trying to find their way back to the dorms, and then speeding off toward the next class. Maybe, when they learned their way around the castle, they could use the one hour breaks to their advantage, but it seemed like that was not the current case.

Bugger.

They had quickly sped back to the dorm first, to pick up the correct new books and drop Fox off. The cat was decidedly _very_ confused when Harry told her to stay on the bed, but she did so. Harry had normally taken her nearly everywhere, but she needed to stay and she would. Fox was great like that.

Harry didn't see Abrin's lump under the bed covers, but didn't worry about it. Maybe he was hunting, or exploring, or even just sleeping in a different place.

It was Abrin, after all. But the bed was perfectly arranged again, with the sheets neatly pressed and the blanket flat against the mattress. Harry could only guess that magic had come in and fixed it all up.

Goodness, how he loved magic.

But the _History_ of magic was the worst.

They had walked into the classroom and sat down with Harry in the middle and Neville and Padma on either side. The room was infinitely more dull than the Defense classroom, just desks, a blackboard, and two small windows overlooking the lake. There wasn't anything to keep Harry's attention while the time ticked down.

But then, when the clock announced that it was time for class, the professor arrived.

Through a wall.

He - Harry was pretty sure it was male - was ghostly, transparent. He was wearing silvery robes that hung flat and lifeless around his ankles. He hovered only a few inches off of the ground but his feet didn't move in the slightest, just floating. He had only a few tufts of hair and a rather plain face, and there wasn't even a hint of a smile or a frown or a smirk or an _anything_.

He was about as blank as the blackboard behind him.

My name is Professor Binns."Oh sweet Merlin, even his voice was dull! Harry desperately wished the ghost could have a grating voice or even a stutter like Professor Quirrell; _anything_ was better than this toneless monstrosity!

Professor Binns explained that this class was about the history of important things, such as goblin rebellions and the creation of money. He also touched on the fact that there were several important wizarding figures he would talk about, but by then Harry was nearly asleep.

He then immediately launched into a lesson all about an evil group of tiny, bloodthirsty things called goblins. It took Harry about three seconds to flip open his textbook - _A History of Magic_ , how creative - and see, on the first chapter, a sentence reading: _these bloodhungry creatures were the cause of much terror within our world_. It only took half a minute for Professor Binns to parrot the same lines back at them.

Harry sighed, rearranged his book into a more comfortable position, and slammed his head into it.

Professor Binns didn't even look up.

He'd had a teacher like this. Mrs. Green, a terrible monster upon all primary students. She had opened up a textbook and put in on her desk before starting to read. Algebra had quickly been known as the 'class of sleep' after that.

But after Professor Binns copying the first chapter at them, he had spoken something different, though it had taken Harry a few seconds to catch up.

"And now," the ghost's voice was rather dull, "I want all of you to write me a half-foot summary of what I have taught you today." He nodded to his students, face still blank, before floating backward and disappearing through the wall behind him.

Padman and Neville jerked in their seats. "We were supposed to _following_ that?" Padma hissed out to no one.

And indeed, Ravenclaws and Slytherins were fumbling awake, eyes widening. They exchanged nervous looks, peering at the blank parchment they had brought out for notes. Harry looked over the book again. There was a thin layer of drool on one of the pages but using a scrap of parchment it was gone. He could probably sum up the first chapter.

"Don't worry, everyone." A voice announced over the room. Harry and everyone else spun around to see a rather short black haired girl stand up from her desk, brandishing her textbook. "Everything he just said is in the first chapter. Just read that and you'll be fine."

There was a pause, and then a soft cry of 'Thank you!" came from the Ravenclaw corner of the room. People were shuffling through their books, flipping to the first chapter and reading over the first page. A literal ripple of relief spread over the room.

But the black-haired girl was quickly yanked down from her standing position by a blonde girl next to her. Harry could barely hear the words whispered, but they were still within comprehension.

"Keep your secrets to yourself, Tracey!" The girl hissed furiously, finishing pulling the other down.

Tracey shot the blonde an annoyed look. "I wasn't doing anything wrong. I-" there was a moment where her voice muted as she rearranged her books. "-helping everyone. It's a good thing!"

"Not for a Slytherin, Tracey. You know what Snape said - Slytherins help Slytherins and no one else!"

Tracey sighed. "I _know_ , Daphne. But how the _hell_ am I supposed to find an ally in this mess of a school if I don't-" by now, both of them had stood up, and their voices dropped below Harry's hearing level. He sighed, turning back to Padma and Neville. They were both staring at them.

"Er-" Harry paused. "What do we have next?"

Padma hummed, flicking open her timetable. "I think we have a free period and then lunch. We don't we head up to our rooms and then to the library? I want to learn the stinging hex for Professor Quirrell's class."

Neville nodded. "Yeah, me too. I can't wait for his class! It's great so far."

"Okay, then." Harry grinned at them, hands scooping up his books. "Let's go up to the dorms."

With a smile back in Harry's direction, Padma flicked open her map.

Abrin was gone.

Harry's breath was fast and sharp in his chest as he ripped the blanket away from his bed, quickly tearing the sheets off as well. The area was dull and flat as he exposed the mattress, but there was a snarky adder curled up underneath them.

There wasn't a lump anywhere in the room, under any bed or hidden under any robes.

There were two sausages still whole under the covers, not even a tooth mark on them. Fox nearly instantly leapt up on the bed and slurped them up, but that wasn't the problem.

Abrin _wasn't there and eating them_.

Harry ran toward his trunk, flipping it open. There wasn't anything inside. He _knew_ he had shut the door; Fox had to stay inside his room, and he knew the adder wasn't thin enough to squeeze around the door frame. So he _had_ to be somewhere in the room.

 _He had to_.

Harry dimly became aware of Neville's startled face and his hand still frozen on the knob of the door. They stared at each other.

He probably looked insane. He had nearly ripped apart his bed, trunk, and everything else that was his. Harry winced and straightened up, blushing.

"Bad time?" Neville asked, voice even meeker than when Harry had first met him. Harry's cheeks flushed brighter.

"Sorry, Neville." He ran a hand through his hair. "I just lost something and I was trying to find it."

"Er-" Neville didn't say anything for a few seconds. "Want to come down to the library with us? Padma's waiting."

Harry looked around the room. His breath was still a bit too heavy in his chest.

"Yeah- yeah, of course I'll go." Harry paused, flicking a piece of parchment with his foot. It fluttered through the air before landing near his trunk. Fox leapt down and pawed at it, meowing softly.

Harry crossed the room, walking through the still-open door. Neville carefully closed it behind him. They walked together into the blue and silver common room. It was much more full than Harry had ever remembered seeing it. Most of the comfy blue chairs and beanbags were occupied by one or more students, books and parchments and wands laid out in front of them. But the noise was rather quiet, most students concentrating on what was in front of them.

Padma had claimed a corner of the ground, every single table already taken over with other students. Her map was spread out over it, and she was tracing a new path. She looked up as the two of them approached, long black hair swinging.

"It's actually not that far from here, really. Just a few floors beneath us." Harry and Neville exchanged looks.

"Wonder why it's like _that_. Must be a coincidence," Harry murmured to Neville.

"Definitely," Neville agreed, looking over the walls upon walls of books in the common room.

They both snickered.

Padma grinned lightly before letting her map snap back into its position as a book. She tucked it into her bag, a thin black thing that bulged strange with parchment.

They walked the rather simple path to the library. It mostly involved finding the Staircase Room - which Cho Chang had told them it was called - and finding the ones that would take them down levels. It still took almost half an hour to find the right stairs, though Professor Flitwick's little trick of forcing stairs to freeze was beyond helpful.

So, with still an hour of free time and then another for lunch, they walked into the library.

It was a large room dwarfed by the towering shelves. From the angle Harry could see, the room was like a maze - there were bookcases that went this way and that way, and Harry couldn't quite see an escape anywhere. On every inch of the room, though, there were _books_.

Books as thick as Harry's entire body to ones about as slim as his finger, they were arranged in the room with a waterfall of color. Every single shade Harry had ever seen was splashed up on at least nine covers.

DOtted over the room were several tables and chairs, but most were already claimed by other students. They were bent over books and papers, mouthing words and asking questions to their neighbors. But Harry didn't see any wands out.

There was a small desk in the corner of the room, and it took Harry and Neville a few seconds to realize that Padma was already walking over to it. They hurriedly sped after her, Harry nearly tripping over a loose book.

"Hello?" Padma asked.

A woman looked over at them. She had rather graying hair and a sharp face but her bright blue eyes were warm as she stared at the dark-skinned witch. "Yes?"

"Are you Madam Pince?" Padma's ears were just the slightest bit red.

The woman smiled benignantly. "Yes, I am. What do you need?"

"Er- are there any books on the stinging hex?"

Madam Pince laughed. "Ah yes. I have suddenly gotten an influx of students asking for that spell - Professor Quirrell, I assume?"

Harry nodded.

Madam Pince reached below her desk and produced a thin red book with a wand on the cover. "I grabbed a few more to have on me. It seems I was right to do this!" She handed one over to Neville, who quickly grabbed it with a rather stunned expression.

"Now, a few rules." Now her gaze sharpened as she peered at each of them in turn. "There is no magic in my library. Especially not from any first years who could destroy every book in here."

Harry blushed, and all three of them quickly nodded and shuffled their feet.

"Also, no raised voices or disturbances. Keep your noise levels down. Lastly, I do not want any familiars of any kind in here."

All three of them nodded. That was pretty easy, although Harry mourned the loss of another place he could bring Fox along with him. Maybe Abrin, if he hid him well enough?

 _Abrin was still missing_.

But now Padma had already grabbed the book and was heading off toward a group of four chairs and a table. She grabbed the one closest to the window, dropping the new book and her map-book on the table. Harry and Neville chose the ones next to her, nearly collapsing on the rather plump chairs.

"Okay. Let's read." Padma flipped the book - _Everyone's First Magical Spells_ \- open, scanning the table of contents. Her eyes widened.

"There's everything in here! Why didn't they assign this for a book to buy?" Her face scowled. "I didn't need to buy anything extra in _Flourish and Blotts_ at all; look around! There probably isn't a book that's _not_ in here!"

Harry had to agree with her. Those five Galleons spent on his extra books seemed rather wasted as he looked around the school library.

But then again, he couldn't bring these books home over the summer, could he? That was how it worked with the primary school he went to. Maybe it was different here?

Harry didn't quite think so.

"Stinging hex, stinging hex, stinging hex…" Padma muttered to herself, looking over the book. Her finger traced down the table of contents. Harry noticed that she was biting her tongue.

She stopped. "Found it!" Flicking the book past page and page,

"It's incantation is _livorus_." Padma frowned, eyes flicking over the page. "It's only motion is to.. Er, jab it at someone? Can this book get any _less_ descriptive?"

Harry shared a look with Neville. They both shrugged, before Neville inched closer to Padma. They both looked over the book, eyes scanning words over and over again.

"No. That's it," Neville agreed, scooting back over to his original position.

Harry paused. "Wait, we can't do magic in the library. What do we do, then?"

Both Neville and Padma frowned. But then the girl quickly stood up, jolting the table forward. She walked over to Madam Pince, who smiled and leaned in closer to hear her. Padma talked for a few seconds before jogging back over.

"She says that there are tons of empty rooms over the building, and we can practice in there as long as we aren't doing too dangerous of a spell."

Harry grinned. "Well, a stinging hex isn't exactly going to kill us, right? Let's go." He paused. "Does your map show where those kind of classrooms are?"

Padma smiled. "No need. Madam Pince said there was one to the left of the library."

Neville stood up, lips twitching into a rather hesitant grin. "Well then, let's go, I guess."

They rest of them stood up. Harry scowled at the chairs. "We really didn't have to come here at all then, did we? Couldn't we have just asked an older year for the incantation?"

Padma paused. "Well, yes, I guess we could have. But at least we know where the library is, right?"

Harry shrugged. "I guess. Lead the way, Padma!"

Padma led them out of the room, handing the red covered book back to Madam Pince, who accepted it with an easy smile. The hallway was rather full, students walking and chatting and laughing with their friends. All of their robes were edged with a certain color, and it only took Harry a few seconds to realize that the greens were sticking with the greens and the yellows were with the yellows and so forth.

Were they not allowed to mingle here? Harry didn't understand magic.

They took a sharp left, and almost immediately Neville spotted a thin brown door. He walked nervously up to it, touching it carefully with his wand. Then Neville grabbed the handle and swung the door open.

The room inside was the perfect medium between light and dark. There were several windows in the corners of the room but nothing else. A blank blackboard with the remaints of chalk stood in the front of the room, but the other layout of the room was nearly identical to the History of Magic classroom. But all of the desks were piled up in one corner of the on top of each other in a way that didn't look stable in the slightest. But the floor was clean of dust and the light was enough, and so they quickly walked in. Padma closed the door behind them.

"I think other people use this room a lot," Padma offered. All of them nodded.

They walked a bit away from each other, forming a lumpy triangle in the middle of the room. Harry seriously doubted that any of them knew what they were doing in the slightest - he hadn't even cast a single spell before in his life!

Neville, with a short second of hesitation, drew his wand. Everyone else quickly followed suit, blushing slightly. Padma's was very long, definitely more than a foot. But Neville's, a pretty light blond, looking rather worn. Harry quickly looked away.

"What was the saying again?" Harry asked. His own wand was tight in his wand. He was holding it like a broom, but then it angled toward the floor. Shouldn't there be a class for this?

"I think it was livorus," she muttered, holding her wand out in front of her. A brilliant white light sped from the tip and smack Harry right in the chest.

He toppled.

"Oh! Harry! I'm sorry!" Padma yelped, eyes wide. She sped toward Harry, who was still laying on the ground.

Harry could only say one thing.

"Ow."

* * *

 **Hey! Still not dead!**

 **So it's been like what, a week? More? I haven't been able to write because I've got a real novel on the way and, you know, life. I've got a trip next week so I can't write then either, so this is just to lessen the blow of the ridiculously long wait.**

 **Oops.**

 **But hey! I hope you enjoyed this! I've got a missing snake, a little bubbling anger with Professor McGonagall, and subplots!**

 **Oh subplots, how I doth love thee...**

 **Anyway!**

 **You know what, though? I have a problem. I'm realizing I'm making Padma kind of into the Hermione of the group. Not sure whether that's good or bad.**

 **Any ideas on what I can do to make her more, well,** _ **her**_ **?**

 **Anyway! I have something new! I have a - drum roll, please -** _ **fanfiction recomendation**_ **!**

 **It's their first story and is only around 3,000 words long, but it's a oneshot and drew more feels out of me than any other fanfic so far. It's by chasingluminescantdreams and is called 'of love and war'. No capitals.**

 **It is a really, really amazing oneshot, and I know that they're planning more like it! So please, please please read it! No spoilers, but it is about - you know what? That is a spoiler. Just go and read it.**

 **Anyway! Please read and review!**

 **Frost OUT!**


	22. A Charming Ron

Harry was rather excited for Charms.

No really, he was. Ever since Professor Flitwick had helped him out by explaining a few things about Hogwarts, he had really looked up to the short man. And Charms? The act of changing, adding, or altering objects?

Oh yes, Harry couldn't wait for Charms.

Neville was beside him, shuffling through his books with his brows furrowed. His bag was a light brown and was of high quality. Harry kind of wanted one.

His books were stuffed under one arm, wand in his pocket. His pocket that didn't have an Abrin in it.

He had never gone long without his adder. The snake was always wrapped around his neck, lazily hissing sarcastic comments in his ear. Or else he was tucked into a pocket, dozing off until Harry found him a scrap of meat. But he was always there.

And now he wasn't.

And Harry wasn't quite sure what to do.

He didn't even have Fox, who had been a second constant presence. And while he still knew where she was, she wasn't there with him.

"Harry?" Padma bumped his shoulder, shaking him free from his thoughts.

"Oh! Sorry. Just zoned out, I guess." He rubbed the back of his neck, warmth blossoming on his neck. The Charms classroom door was three feet behind him.

Padma just grinned, her dark skin making her teeth shine like the sun.

They backtracked and pushed the door open.

The Charms classroom was a lot like the professor that taught it. A rather short ceiling that felt taller with the light colors of the room. The floor to ceiling window took up the entirety of the wall, held back by neat purple curtains.

There was light blue carpet, one squished by many feet. It looked fluffy enough to sleep on. Books were stacked everywhere, only some actually in the bookshelves lining the room. There were several large stacks by the desk, which was rather small.

The desks were in five rows, four across. Harry claimed one in the middle of the second row, shuffling his books into one corner. Neville sat down in the chair next to him, grinning. His wand was tight in his palm.

But there was a flurry of movement and a redhead dropped into the other seat.

"Hey, Harry!" Ron Weasley's grin could have split his face in half. His books were scattered across his desk, wand lying on top. His fingers tapped along the wood.

"Er-" Harry was a bit confused. Their first meeting hadn't gone well. Maybe he was trying over?

He cleared his throat. "Hey?"

Padma gave a glare to Ron and sat next to Neville, black braid swinging. They both started whispering.

Ron's voice was bright and chipper, though his eyes were a bit desperate. "How do you like school so far? Do you have a favorite class?"

"Um. Yeah, I like it a lot. Magic is awesome. But I've only been to two classes. I really like the defense class, though." Harry played idly with his wand. Ron's enthusiasm was something he was definitely not used to.

"Yeah!" Crowed Ron. "Of course the Boy-Who-Lived would like the class. Knew you would!"

Harry coughed.

"So." A grin spread in Ron's face. "How boring are the 'claws? Ready to switch over yet?"

Harry's brows furrowed. "I really like being in Ravenclaw. The common is full of bookshelves on everything!"

"Meh." Ron waved a hand. "That's what the library is for. But you haven't seen when the twins start to party over here in Gryffindor. They're my older brothers."

"I know." Harry was not enjoying this conversation.

Ron brightened. "So! What classes do you have after this?"

Harry stuttered. He couldn't do anything but answer this boy's questions!

"Um. Transfiguration and Potions."

Ron smiled. "I can't wait till Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall teaches the class, and she's Head of Gryffindor! I bet we'll get all sorts of perks!"

He paused.

"You won't like Potions, I bet," Ron said with the most serious expression Harry had ever seen on him. "Professor Snape is the worst git to ever come here."

Harry cocked his head to one side. "I'm actually really excited for Potions, though."

Ron shuddered. "Not after the first class, you won't. He treats us Gryffindors like something in the bottom of his shoe."

"How does he treat Ravenclaws?"

Ron shrugged. "No idea. But he probably will treat them terrible. He hates everything except for his Slytherins. We have class with them nearly every class, and he adores them. It's not fair."

Just then, Professor Flitwick walked into the class, and Harry had never been happier for a distraction.

The man looked chipper and bright, light grey robes swirling around him. His black wand was held in his hand.

Although he did look a bit comical climbing a stack of books to stand on his desk.

"Attendance!" His voice was a bit squeaky, though not too much. His gaze flicked over the students. "Please say something when your name is called."

There he went, reading from a long list written in a scroll of parchment. Every student said something similar to 'here'.

"Lakeson-Potter, Harry!"

"Present!" Harry chirped back at him, earning a smile before the professor moved on.

He finished the list quickly. With a flick of his wand, the scroll floated out of his grasp and rolled itself up before landing softly on his desk.

Professor Flitwick clapped his hands together. "Welcome! My name is Professor Flitwick, and I am your Charms teacher. Charms is an interesting subject, simply because of how many things it can do! While it may not be the most difficult to accomplish, rest assured that most of your memory will be devoted to my class. Every spell has different words and a different movement, and there are thousands to chose from. Though we will not be starting on anything like that today."

He cleared his throat. "Now, can anyone tell me the definition of Charms?"

Harry groaned.

Okay. So he had really been looking forward to Charms, but now he was just annoyed.

Apparently, it would be an entire week before they got to do a spell!

First was the defense class, where they only got to use stinging charm at the end of the year! Then History of Magic, where they didn't even have to be there, just read it in their textbooks. And now Charms!

At least there wasn't any homework. He had the History of Magic essay in the back of his mind, trying to come up with a good starter.

He really loved magic, but it would have been nice to actually get to use it.

Well, he still had Transfiguration and Potions to look forward for. Though he didn't have very high hopes for Potions. But at least they might get to do something!

Sighing again, he slid all of his books into one arm. He had brought his Transfiguration books as well, because they only had ten minutes to find the classroom. They had no break in between.

He would have loved to check on Fox, maybe give her a few pieces of meat he had saved from breakfast.

And he would have really, really loved the chance to try and find Abrin. The lazy snake was probably back already, done with exploring. He hoped so.

Padma had her map spread out over her desk, bent double over it. He walked over to her.

Or, at least, tried to.

A hand landed on his shoulder, and he turned around to face Ron.

"Hey! What class do you have next?" He grinned even as Harry tried to inch himself back toward Padma.

"Transfiguration, which is in like ten minutes…"

"Oh!" Ron chirped. "Well, you'll have to tell me how it is! You have it with the 'puffs, right? Make sure to tell me whether she talks about us Gryffindors, okay?"

Harry hurriedly nodded and pulled the boy's hand off his shoulder. Ron walked out of the classroom, chatting with another Gryffindor.

"Excited to become friends with him?" Padma said dryly.

Harry shuddered. "No. I don't understand why he keeps hounding me like that!"

Neville shrugged and stepped forward. "We may never know. But we have to hurry either way, so why don't we talk and walk at the same time?"

Harry nodded, and they all stepped out of the classroom.

The corridors were full now, seemingly thousands of students milling around. Conversations were impossible with the noise found everywhere. So their little group scurried off toward Transfiguration.

Thankfully, the classrooms were grouped pretty close together. Professor McGonagall's class was only five minutes away, and they filed in with another group of Ravenclaws.

Quickly they claimed three desks next to each other, Padma in the middle and Neville and Harry on either side. They spread their books out and stared at the front of the class.

There was a cat.

A rather large one, with brown fur and silver markings. It licked one paw as its eyes flicked over the class. But other than that, it stayed perfectly still in the middle of the desk.

The last student - a Hufflepuff - marched into the classroom just as the bell rang. As soon as they had taken their seat, the cat leapt off its desk.

And transformed.

Into Professor McGonagall.

Everyone was stunned, to say the least.

Students jumped back and there were a dozen "Wickeds!" Professor McGonagall stood for it all, a smile on her face.

Then she snapped to attention.

"Welcome, everyone, to Transfiguration." She marched in front of the desks, brown wand tight in her grip.

"Here I will teach you the art of transforming one object into another. Though this class may seem complicated, I assure you that it most definitely is."

She fixed them all with a steely glare. "My class is one of the most difficult in this school, and I will not accept any tomfoolery in here. My rule is that if you create a distraction, you will be allowed to create that distraction in the hall."

Harry gulped. Yes, it was definitely a good thing that Fox wasn't in this class.

"Today, I will be teaching one of four Transfiguration incantations. In here, there are only four main spells. I will be teaching you the inanimate to inanimate incantation."

Harry glared at the match on his desk. It didn't move.

So, all he had was an incantation and a wand gesture. This didn't seem as easy as it was to turn the flower blue.

He raised his wand, steeling himself. He could do this. It was just a match. How hard could it be to make it completely transform into something else?

He sighed and dropped his head into his hands.

Merlin, he wasn't quite ready for this.

"Ahem! Class, please look forward!" Professor McGonagall announced. Harry looked up.

She was holding something thin in her fingers, twirling it lightly around to catch everyone's attention. Focusing, Harry could make out it was a needle!

A perfect one, sharp and silver. But it had only been five minutes!

"This is what you want your match to turn into. Five points to Hufflepuff, Miss Bones."

The girl - Susan, he thought he remembered - blushed and squirmed in her seat. Her face glowed with pride, and a girl sitting next to her face her a thumbs-up.

Harry growled and refocused on his match. He could do this.

Just then, the door to the classroom pulled open. A tall boy poked his way in, red lined robes shining.

"Professor McGonagall?" His voice was light.

She turned to him, still holding onto Susan's needle. "Yes?"

"Er, Professor Dumbledore needs Harry Potter in his office. He apologized for pulling him from your class, but he said it was important."

McGonagall sniffed, eyes flicking over to Harry. Her grip tightened on the needle. "Very well."

Harry glanced over at Padma and Neville. They seemed just as surprised as he did, eyebrows raised.

The Headmaster didn't normally call students on the first day, much less pull them from a class. There had been the short meeting about his magical guardian, though. Maybe something about that.

Harry sucked in a breath. Could there be something wrong with James? Could that be it?

Hurriedly, he reached for his books, but Padma put a hand over them. "I'll take them back," she whispered. Harry grinned at her brightly.

He stood up, his wand disappearing into his pocket. The match was still on his desk, and he let it be. Surely Professor McGonagall would pick it up later.

The room was silent except for the shuffling of his feet. He walked quickly to the door, Professor McGonagall's eyes on him. The boy pushed the door open wider for him, and he walked through.

The boy immediately started to walk, his infinitely longer legs grinding up the hallway. Harry blinked and had to jog to catch up.

"Did I do something wrong?" He asked, fingers knitting themselves together.

The boy shrugged. "No idea. They don't tell me a lot of information."

After that, the walk was silent.

They went up two flights of stairs that the boy didn't freeze with his hand. Wasn't that common knowledge?

Harry was a bit too nervous to think about that in full detail.

The corridors were mostly empty except for a few Gryffindor students. The red lining on their robes were rather obvious. Maybe this was a free period for them?

The boy took him down two more corridors and then they arrived at the griffin statue. The password was still "Liquorice Wands" and then the stairs appeared.

The boy didn't walk up them, just gesturing forward. Harry sucked in a deep breath and marched forward onto the first step. The stairs immediately started to move upward. He didn't look at the runes engraved on the griffin, didn't look at the intricate carving along the walls. His hands shook.

But then he paused.

There was a sound he recognized.

A low hiss, something soft. It was light enough to be carried away if a wind, yet he could hear it.

And it grew louder the higher he rose.

There were words in the hisses.

" _Let_ _me_ _out_! _Let_ _me_ _out_!"

Harry froze.

That was adder-talk, and he knew of only one other being that could speak that.

He bolted up the last few stairs and threw open the wooden door at the top.

The office was still huge, the books were still overwhelming, and the desk was still the largest one he had ever seen.

Professor Dumbledore sat behind the desk in his brilliant red robes. He glanced up as Harry walked in, but his blue eyes weren't twinkling. His wand was out and pointing to something on his desk.

There was a cage made of metal bars twisting around each other. Harry had seen them in the owl shop, though he had also seen cats in them. Animal cages.

And there was an animal inside of it.

A light grey snake with a black zigzag down its back. Furious black eyes and bared fangs. Hisses exploded from its mouth.

Abrin!

Harry made one lurching step forward, eyes fixed on Abrin. But then Professor Dumbledore coughed lightly and he froze. His gaze slowly flicked up to meet the man's face.

"Now Harry, my boy." His voice was still light and grandfatherly, but there was something colder in its depths. "Would you like to explain why this snake was in your bed?"

 **Er-**

 ***shuffles nervously for ten minutes***

 ***glances up at you***

 ***shuffles again***

 **Well. I kind of have an excuse. I'm really trying to write my book, I'm now in a play, and school has started!**

 **But anyway. Stinging Nettles is now back online! I know that it was adopted by the lovely Trickster True, but they have discontinued it for the time being due to life. You know, that big thing that doesn't let us write fanfiction all the time?**

 **Yeah. That.**

 **So, my updates will be few and far between. I'm only allowing myself to write on this story or one of my others once I have written five pages for my story everyday. So yeah. It may take me a while.**

 **But I swear, I'll get to this story eventually. It may not have the two chapters a day I used to do, but I promise I'll try to give you guys something every now and then. You deserve it for reading this!**

 **But hey! Back to the good news. Harry has had his first Charms and sorta Transfiguration class! How did you enjoy them? I know I rushed a bit, but hopefully I can make it up later.**

 **And how do you like the Ron interaction? I was pretty proud of it. They are only 11, after all.**

 **But hey! Abrin has been found, but in Dumbledore's clutches? What could this mean?**

 **Do you have any ideas of what Dumbledore would do to a venomous snake with his Boy-Who-Lived?**

 **Tell me in the reviews!**

 **Please read and review!**

 **Frost OUT!**


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